Yesterday, Marnie2000 called me at work. She couldn�t hear me because my music was too loud, and TRL was blaring and three girls were standing next to me debating the new look of �N SYNC while applying a new glitter cream to my arms. She hung up and e-mailed me, asking why my work seems to be one, very large sleepover.
I thought about it, and she seems to be right. My office is crazy. I watch TV all day, surf the web looking for leads on what�s cool, or what I think will be cool. I track breaking news, online and on TV. I read everything. Everything, everything, everything. I read shit I don�t understand at all�medical journals, nuclear science, sports�out of curiousity. And because I know that the knowledge will provide me with an idea down the road.
I play with toys. They help me think of the �big idea.� I am the idea person. We�re launching a new widget, Partygirl, what should we do? Where should we do it? What celebrity should we work with? What�s the plan, Partygirl?
And I say, hold on a second. And I�ll do something really silly, with a straight face, like take a pair of grandma underwear out of my drawer on put it on my head and then turn back and say, �Okay, what kind of vibe are we looking for?� And these people don�t even blink. Maybe they wave it away as �creative?� To me, it�s just funny as shit.
My mom used to say to me all the time, �Partygirl, get a corporate job. Go to Wall Street. Make money.� We would argue and argue and argue. I would explain until I couldn�t catch my breath, �Mom, that�s not who I am. I am not a suit person. A job like that would kill me. Have you looked at me lately? Do I look like someone who wears a navy suit?�
She would say, �Just for a couple of years, to save some money.� I refused to relent but I would hang up shaking with anger. The frustration, to explain yourself to a parent, who thinks of you in terms of that 6lb. bundle of joy they miraculously created, is futile. This I have learned. Small doses. Break it down for them in small doses.
That�s what I did. There was a lot of push and shove in high school. It wasn�t pretty. I�m sure I threatened to run away about 80 times. College, it continued, to a lesser extent. Post college, I pushed back and pushed back until it reached the point we are at today � with my parents thinking I am a crazy, drug-loving, rock whore freak, who for some reason, people like. I let them go with that impression. So when I show up on time and dressed like a normal person for important things, I get EXTRA POINTS. If I bring home a guy or friends without dreadlocks or piercings, they are pleasantly surprised.
The foundation of my life is based on managing expectations. And it�s really worked out for me.
So this job I have, is kinda funny. Because it rocks. And I can blare my Paul Oakenfold, kinda like I�m doing now, and if someone were to ask me why I have trance on volume 11, well I would just tell them...research. Why did I expense the cover to a gatecrashers event? I�m thinking of recreating a Rave for a client. Duh.
I think this career thing, is all about figuring out who you are and what your personal skills and interests are, and then making them work for you. I mean, no one is going to approach you with the perfect job, you know. No one says, hey, do you want to be a Rockstar�here you go kid. Here�s a contract and a stadium tour. Go make a video.
No dude, it�s what you make of the experience using what you were born with. It�s how you apply your skills. When you are good at something and show passion about your work, no one cares how it�s getting done. In fact, they may be intrigued with your process. And then you end up, rewriting the job description.
Or teaching classes at work, which is what I've been doing all Fall. It's slightly bizarre. Me, teaching people, stuff I always thought was trival knowledge.
Yes, that�s how it works. So I must go, I have a co-worker requesting Primus, Disco Chile.
Rock �n Roll.
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