When Your Work-Life Boils Down to a Dusty Cardboard Box
20 Monday May 2013
Written by Elizabeth in Uncategorized
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I cleaned my garage this weekend. Lots of emotions come up for me when I first stepped into my 2-car garage built in 1938. Of course, I immediately feel anger and frustration. Dirt, dirt, dirt – lots of it on the floor – thanks to the city of Denver’s disinclination to get this damn alley paved! (We think it might happen in 2014.)
Then, I see the jack-o-lanterns peering out at me. They always make me happy. Halloween is such pure fun.
Oh, over there is my daughter’s two-story, white colonial doll house. We had such fun fixing it up when she was a little girl. I experience great delight and anticipation because this Christmas her daughter will be six, and I plan to give her the dollhouse, cleaned and slightly refurbished. I’ll include a note and a gift card so that we can go shopping after Christmas for her to get furnishings for “her” dollhouse.
Then, I see it in the corner. A small cardboard box and, once again, I feel sad. Just like the day last summer when I filled that box up and tossed a lot of stuff out from other boxes. You see, inside that box, are my most treasured portfolio items from my years as a public relations and marketing professional: annual reports, videos, newsletters, brochures, speeches, etc. On top of the box is my gray “portfolio case.” I remember buying it in the 1980s and taking it on interviews to proudly show my work.
Now that I no longer work, none of these items really have any value to me or any prospective employer. To boot, I believe that no employer would hire a 66-year-old woman with over 40 years of experience. If anything, I would automatically be told about their volunteer opportunities: I could become a cog in their machinery, instead of a manager that could help drive the business.
I don’t think my 40-year-old-something children would want any of this stuff. By the time my grandchildren might have an understanding of what these items mean, I will already have thanked profusely St. Peter for all the parking spaces I found in my lifetime.
All that work. All that creative juice. All those awards I and my teams received are now sitting in a box is a dusty garage. The recycling bin is right there; but, I might want to look at the pieces in my old age and remember. My God, I really am turning into an old lady.
4 Comments
May 20, 2013 at 5:10 pm
I tossed everything from my working life and never looked back. The last thing to go was my beautiful briefcase which I donated to Goodwill. However, in my forties I took a class at CU in creative writing. That folder I still have. It doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me (but I secretly hope my daughter finds it someday and reads it). It shows my progress through the semester and of course, I thought I would certainly continue to write. Not yet, but it’s on my bucket list!
May 22, 2013 at 10:20 pm
Elizabeth: I know exactly how you feel! About a year ago, I painfully parted with a large box of studies that I either authored (when I was international marketing manager for DIA) or commissioned. They represented years of work, of esoteric, irreplaceable knowledge and memories that summed up an interesting career (to me, not to my children or anyone else). I think it boils down to us, individually celebrating our accomplishments and not feeling sad that no one else gives a damn! May we raise a glass of wine, read a good book, take a soul soothing hike and remember that no one died wishing they had worked one more day!
May 27, 2013 at 5:57 pm
I have several portfolios as well as Power Point presentations on marketing, libraries, and children’s literacy, support materials for workshops. Need to pitch the physical objects. I see my experiences as a continuum, since they all involved writing in some way. But no one asks about my portfolios in the area of fiction writing. I still do some volunteer work in p.r. and writing, so I’m still applying in a crone-like fashion the wealth of knowledge I’ve accumulated.
August 6, 2013 at 11:31 pm
I truly appreciate this article.Thanks Again. Cool.