YKWIM #83: Change of plans!
Yet again, this is not the newsletter that I thought I'd be sending out today
Hey friends, to quote one of the best songs of the ‘90s, yes, it’s me again, and I’m back.
I’ll get down to it: I got in to the Salt Institute for Documentary Studies at the Maine College of Art for radio & podcasting. I move to Portland, Maine, in about a month. After that, hopefully public radio or podcasting or who even knows! I can’t plan that far ahead.
I didn’t tell a lot of people that I was applying in case it didn’t work out. A lot of things don’t work out. I was in shock at first and now it’s wearing off into excitement. I know I have a bunch of logistical stuff to figure out, but for now, I’m going to enjoy this.
Basically, this was my reaction: !!!!!!!!!!!!
I tried to trace the trajectory that got me here and it’s more like a Rocky Road Sundae* than a path that anyone could ever follow. Still, here goes:
I wouldn’t have applied if I hadn’t taken audio storytelling classes in 2018-19 that taught me how to produce and edit. I’ve been listening to podcasts for years and never thought I’d be able to create my own audio stories. Until I took these classes, I never had an opportunity to use the necessary audio equipment or learn through hands-on instruction. I know lots of people could teach themselves, but I’m not one of them. I took those audio classes at a deep discount ($3K+ class for $180) thanks to my day job at the University of Pittsburgh.
I once counted and in a span of seven years, I applied to over 50 jobs at Pitt. I had one interview in 2008 and then never heard from a single other application until this one. What I think helped me get this job was my background as a writer (it was important to the department chair at the time) and the higher ed experience I had from working at Carnegie Mellon University.
Let’s jump back before moving forward. Why did I need the job at CMU? Because I was working part-time at Whole Foods and trying to scrounge a freelance “career” when in reality, I was depressed, drowning in debt, and desperate for stability.
I wanted to work at Whole Foods because it seemed like a fun place to work while I was figuring out my next move, a place to turn off my brain after spending the day writing and proofreading. Most of my coworkers were also creatives— musicians, artists, comedians, writers. Still in touch with a bunch and many are my closest friends. I knew a guy through the comedy community who worked as a cook in prepared foods (shout out to Alex, even though you won’t read this) and he put in a good word. I was on the deli counter, dealing with the customers all day. It was exhausting to go back into food service after years of sitting on my butt in office jobs. It was also humbling, something I didn’t know I needed at the time. I had to work hard after years of half-assing my way behind a cubicle.
I could write an entire book on my time at Whole Foods and the class issues it raised (maybe someday). People who knew me from previous jobs or writing workshops would order food from me without looking me in the eye and I will never forget that. To counteract the shame they felt for me, I’d smile and ask how they were doing by name. Working at Whole Foods was exactly what I needed to do at that time and I’m grateful for it.
Okay, back to Carnegie Mellon. I got in through an old blogger friend (hi Dana!) who put me in touch with the HR person in charge of the university’s in-house temp service.
I can look back now and see that CMU was not the right environment for me. It’s a very serious and introverted campus; I am neither of those things. It was also a culture shock to go from working with all my friends at Whole Foods to not having any coworkers at all. I spent most of my time alone. I tried to fit in there and I never did.
When I think back on this time, I see it as wrestling with my ego— I couldn’t have gotten in as an undergrad, but I could be an employee. I liked the idea of working there, I liked telling people I worked there, especially after getting snubbed by snobs during my time at WF, but ultimately, I didn’t like working there. Until this point, I think I had the mindset that I could fit into any job or work environment, like Jell-O. That’s not the case and it’s a good thing. I’m not meant for everyone and I’m not meant for every place on the planet.Oh, and my start date at Whole Foods got delayed because I was working at an interactive haunted house at the time, an opening I learned about through improv friends. What’s an interactive haunted house? It means guests had to sign a waiver before entering and we, the actors, could touch them. I did that at night and freelanced during the day for a few months.
Ah, freelancing, emphasis on ‘free.’ God, I gave away so much money and time without even knowing it. I started freelancing because (spoiler alert) I got laid off from my previous job (see below). Plus, that ol’ ego of mine loved the way it sounded, and wouldn’t you? “I’m a freelance writer,” as if I’m untethered to the burdens of this world and not constantly hustling.
Except I wasn’t hustling, at least not in the ways I now know are necessary to stay afloat as a freelancer. I’m not going to give my past self too hard of a time because I simply didn’t know what I didn’t know, though again, the ego did get in the way a lot. I thought admitting what I didn’t know was like admitting defeat. I had to accept that I’m constantly learning, all the time, and will be for the rest of my life. I actually just took a really excellent freelance course a few months ago (thank you, Ines). It’s a mountain range, not Mt. Everest.The job that laid me off is barely worth mentioning. I was only there a few months and it was a bad time in my life. I was supposed to write Common Core curriculum for elementary school students (yuck, CC, I know) and I never taught a day in my life. They only hired me because they needed to fill a writer quota and under duress, I could put words on the page. It was not great. My anxiety was off the walls of the open floor office, a layout I had never experienced before. I disparaged the cubicle walls in the obit department for years but didn’t know how much I’d miss them when my only option was all my coworkers seeing the weird faces I make when I type. I HATE open floor plans.
I got laid off while riding a Megabus back from New York after a weekend improv festival. I think they wanted to fire me and calling it a ‘lay-off’ was a kernel of kindness.
The thing I remember the most is that the company grew faster than expected and the kitchen had the tiniest refrigerator. The office was in a weird location that made take-out and food deliveries impossible, so everyone brought their lunch and there would often be no room in the fridge by the time I got in.Which leads me to the obituary department, but I can’t even get into it. Talk about a book. The bulk of my twenties were spent writing death notices. I got this job because my boss (hi Kate!) found my old blog and liked it. Again, I can’t get into it, I’ll be writing about this job forever.
I had so much growing to do. It’s straight up embarrassing to look back on it. One of my college professors tried to tell me what an honor it is to write an obituary for someone and I was like, yeah, okay. What a punk. Sr. Rita, as usual, you were right.
My very first job out of college? I did background checks. Yep, like when you apply for a job, I was the person who had to verify you past employment and education. This place needed a body in a chair and I needed a paycheck, even though it paid very little.
There are many things from this job that I now know are messed up and not normal office behavior, which is probably why most of the employees were recent college grads. I left after a year and that made me an old-timer.
To end this on an even number, sprinkled in between these full- and part-time jobs were so many freelance assignments and one-off gigs that I can’t even remember them all. Here’s one: When I was 24, I had a side gig as a “compliance specialist” through a coworker in the obit department. I would drive to different gas stations all over the Pittsburgh area and ask for a pack of cigarettes. If the cashier asked for ID, I gave them a green card but if not, they got a red card. Basically, I was a cigarette narc. And let’s just say in the training video, these red cards were handled in a rather calm manner, whereas I got chased out of more than one Sunoco by a very scary Russian man.
*Off topic, but damn, doesn’t that sundae look good??
Well, I didn’t plan to write out my employment history, but here it is. Really, this all just fell out of me. It was good to look back at how much this has shaped me. Hope you’ll forgive me if I repeated any stories.
Looking forward to what’s next and I’ll keep y’all posted along the way.
Thanks as always,
Andrea
Hey pals, thanks for reading this newsletter even when it goes a little too long. I write and edit this myself, so please forgive any spelling or grammar errors. Links to my social and website can be found below. If you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee here or here, I will say a cheers in your name. xoxo
Congrats, friendo! So excited for you and this next stage of your life!!!
Congratulations! Looking forward to whatever Greta work you have coming down the line.
Portland, ME rules. Big fan of that city and area in general.