Give One Picture That Describes Your Story...

I attended a team offsite event for work this week and to help us all get to know each other better, we were asked to bring in one photo that describes our "story." I ended up bringing in this:

Big Wheel bike 

Because around the time I was 3 or 4 years old, I made my parents amused and proud when I was riding my Big Wheel down the street in my original home state of Washington and I chose to turn around in the driveway in front of a retirement home. Well, one elderly woman was sitting outside and did not like that I was doing that so she kept trying to make me stop. But I didn't stop, because I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong and that lady didn't own the driveway, and I wasn't hurting anyone. And I had to turn around somewhere because hello! Parents don't just let you keep riding your Big Wheel until you reach Oregon! Anyway, my parents lovingly tell stories like that as examples of the fact that I've always been a little headstrong, not afraid to challenge authority when appropriate, and not afraid to stand up for myself and do things my way. 

Anyway, I ended up using that one image as an abstract way to explain that those traits carried into my adult life, blah blah blah, but a lot of other people chose the literal  route and simply made collages of their lives.

Oh. 

Yes, I suppose I could've done that instead of basically conveying to everyone that I was born a hot-head. Whoops.

So some of their collages showed the different jobs they had held before joining the career that we are now all in together -- government consulting. And some of their past roles included working in state politics, working overseas, etc. and it made me smile to myself thinking about what my collage would've included had I gone that route. 

Below is a post I wrote years ago describing some of my former jobs. I think it's probably just as well that I stuck with the Big Wheel....

What a Way to Make a Living
(Originally posted July 2011)

I apparently have an entrepreneurial heart because I started wondering how to make money about the time I, I don't know, started breathing.

I sold cookies and Kool-aid at my mom's yard sales in the summer. I sold Friendship Bracelets to other children who were too lazy to make their own. (I grew up in the middle of Orchards, I had a lot of time on my hands to braid thread...)

When I was 12, I worked (underage) as a quasi-maid at my parents' motel. I also got on staff at another hotel as a babysitter. Because apparently some rich people like to dump their kids off on perfect strangers who haven't reached puberty yet while they go out on the town.

The first gig I got was taking care of a toddler and an infant. The infant was sick. I'd never babysat before.

I never worked at that place again.

When I was 13, my family moved to Tennessee where I continued my streak of random income-earning:

I worked as a Hostess at Shoney's.

I worked as a Dairy Queen server AT A TRUCK STOP.

I worked in a Rent-To-Own furniture store.

That one, I have tons of stories from. If you aren't familiar with the typical clientele of that sort of place, let me describe some of ours:

-we had actual Pimps

-we had drug dealers

-we had one lady with a tattoo on her forehead of a number that my God-fearing self can't even type here

-and others who I've now blocked out in my memory

We'd repo furniture and it'd come back with roaches. I made collection-calls. I drove the Box Truck. And I was the only female working there, so if the customers and environment weren't enough, you should meet my bosses!

One of them called me "Woman!" and also used the term "Broad" and whenever anyone asked where anything was in the office, the answer was:

"If it was up your *butt you'd know!"

*butt wasn't actually the word they preferred.

This is why I'm not really fazed by "difficult personalities" in D.C....

After that, I started working...

...on an assembly line!

You thought I was going to say something boring, didn't you?

In my college town was a plant that made Foam Packaging for everything from hospital beds, to BMW parts.

They paid above minimum wage and let you stare off into space while mechanically going through the same motion for hours. I was sold.

That place was fun. There were some other guys (guys! Always guys! I'm starting to see why I get along better with men in the workplace...) from my school who also worked there. And they took more advantage of the place then I did and used to bounce around in the back warehouse on the hospital bedding we'd just put together. And take naps.

Meanwhile, me and my conscience worked steadily away at a variety of brain-cell killing tasks.

Literally brain-cell killing. At one station we melted Styrofoam with hair dryers to get items to stick together. Pretty sure that is not the most healthy thing to smell for hours. But it explains a lot about me now....

At another station, we had to stand up large foam mats and spray glue on them, air-brush style. The great part was, (besides using the glue gun) you were back up against an identical station sothat person's glue would inevitably over-spray --

onto your hair.

I never had a dramatic incident but I do remember the sensation of glue spray coming over the top of the divider wall. And I probably was thinking "somehow this isn't how I pictured college life..."

After we sprayed them, we had to wrestle with these heavy gel pads that went on one foam mat, then we had to slap a second foam mat on top of that - forming part of a bed.

Once again, I feel bad for the end user of something I created...

After college, I moved to D.C. where before I was hired full time, I served as an intern for 3 months, making no money. So then I resorted to scavenging free food at events whenever possible and at one point found out about a catering job I could do to make some money. They bus you out to the event (not in the best part of town) and you make sure the buffet stays full. But the best part?

It was for Redskins Games.

So while I had to slave over steaming hot trays of food for other people - I also got to watch pro-football for free. I only did it once, but it was pretty fun. And it was ironic to have people dismiss you as "just the server" but be getting paid, then get up, put on my Big Girl Suit and walk right into the White House complex -- and work for free.

And even after the White House hired me full-time, you never seem to have enough money in this town. So I've supplemented my income through the years with everything from part-time work at Golds Gym to getting paid to sing harmony in a cover band, to selling merchandise on a music tour, living in a bus with a bluegrass band (as I mentioned here).

So right now I just have the two careers (consulting and the U.S. Navy Reserve) but maybe it's time to find a new random gig again. Anyone need a weekend travel writer?....

Just Call Me Grace (re-post)

I'm still buried, so I'm putting up another old post this week. Enjoy!

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Just Call Me Grace

The other day at work, I was in the middle of a discussion, holding a cup of coffee I thought I had finished. At one point I got excited and started talking more with my hands - only to end up covered in "Sumatra Blend" and Irish Creamer. Which reminded me of another time when I did something very similar in front of *Joe (name changed to protect the innocent).

Ah Joe.

Joe was a guy I worked with years ago that I had a little crush on. He was a grad student who was interning for the office I was detailed to at the time. This was about a year after 9/11 happened and I was still working at the White House but my boss was asked to go help support the office that was creating the new Department of Homeland Security (DHS) a few blocks away. She asked me to join her.

And I did, not only because that was a freaking cool thing to be a part of, but also because I loved that lady. After 9/11, the White House staff started getting more security training and at one point my boss and I were both in possession of our very own Gas Masks. And my desk faced out into the hallway where people passed every day. My boss and I joked about how funny (and cruel) it'd be if I just casually wore my gas mask while continuing to type away at my computer, just to freak the crap out of anyone who walked by. The fact that my boss agreed that was a good idea made her alright in my book.

Then she told me "there's a guy in our new office that I think you might like."

I was skeptical. But still kept an eye out for this guy. And things were crazy busy at the time, as you can imagine. This office we were going to was full of people like former CIA directors, heads of government departments, etc. And the office itself had to be put together while these people were, you know, only making the biggest change in the Federal Government since the creation of the Department of Defense in 1947.

No pressure.

So I remember standing in my boss' new office at the other building, surrounded by boxes, in my suit with my shoes kicked off in the corner somewhere. And I'm wondering where to even start when a guy walks in looking for my boss.

Ah. You must be sexy Joe.

I can only imagine how much of a hot mess I appeared to him as I looked up confused and shoe-less.

Our conversation was brief (and I'm sure I was red-faced the whole time) but we actually became pretty good friends throughout our time there. And we also flirted a little, though he had a girlfriend (OF COURSE), so I always wanted to be cute around him.

And I always failed miserably.

And the ridiculous thing is - we only worked together there for a few months. But because of my internal homing device, and because this town is a regurgitating spin cycle of people in various government-related roles, I ended up running into him in two other jobs after that.

Leading to these incidents:

• While still at that office, I occasionally had to get briefing materials quickly to the west wing -- a few blocks away -- which lead me to just start bringing running shoes to work. So one morning, as Joe was calmly walking down the street towards our office like a normal person, he encounters me running like a crazy person towards him, wearing my suit and sneakers, carrying a binder. Strike two for looking sane to this guy.

• After DHS was up and running, I went back to my job at the White House and Joe - became a Secret Service Agent. (Because he wasn't already attractive enough....are you kidding me with this?) And one night I was walking down the sidewalk in Chinatown - and I randomly see Joe. With his agent suit and earpiece. Guarding the Bush Twins. Yeah. No big deal. They were apparently inside the restaurant nearby. He and I were both surprised to run into each other and as we give each other a quick hug - HIS EARPIECE GETS STUCK TO MY SHIRT. Yep. Me=Graceful.
• After that, I was volunteering at the Republican National Convention in Minnesota and see one of the guys with Presidential nominee McCain.....and it's Joe. Seriously, where am Inot going to run into this guy...
• After that, I was in my current company's headquarters out in Virginia taking training. And during training, I decide to go to a computer lab and check my email. And I KID YOU NOT, as I log out, I look up -

And there's Joe.

He has apparently joined my company. And just happens to also be at our headquarters, in the computer lab, the exact same time I am. (And I am never, ever there, typically.)

And here's where we circle back and have the coffee incident.

1. I look terrible. I resent having to take training that day so I'm wearing whatever I found first in my closet and little makeup.
2. What did I find first in my closet? Pink pants. Slightly too small. With coffee stains on them.
3. I'm so addled at running into him, that I start to gesture towards my training name tag to explain why I'm there -

And I forget I'm HOLDING A COFFEE CUP. And spill coffee on my own shirt.

The last time I saw Joe he had another cool job and had left my company. But I'm sure I'll run into him again in a year or so and I'll probably have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or my pants will spontaneously fall down to my ankles or something. Just another day.....

The Downward Spiral into Oblivion

About a year ago, me, my friend Gina, and The Other Goldfish Poodle were all sitting around in a quaint little restaurant in West Virginia, when the topic of conversation shifted to - turning 30.

What proceeded out of my and Rod's mouths was nothing short of frantic vitriol being spat into Gina's face about how she should just stay in her 20's if at all possible because once you cross that threshold (and here's where one of my favorite Rod quotes is uttered) you enter a "downward spiral into oblivion."

Here's the thing. Rod and I LOVED our 20's. Being Goldfish Poodles, everything was so shiny and new and exciting. And everything felt like an accomplishment. Mom, I got a job! Mom, I have my own apartment! Mom, I decided not to eat the inside part of Oreo cookies for breakfast each day even though I totally can. 

I started worrying that nothing I did would ever be seen as an accomplishment again, because I assumed that once you are in your 30's, people just expected everything. Of course you should have degrees. Of course you should've been promoted by now. Of course you should be able to keep a house plant alive....

Rod had similar fears. He felt like his major accomplishments all revolved directly around age. He won honors and held leadership positions for things that you age out of. He was always the youngest to do this or that, so he too feared that his best days were left in his 20's. Our best days were still somewhere using plastic crates as furniture and wearing Forever 21 outfits to the office. (Ok maybe that was just me. ...and maybe I still occasionally shop at Forever 21...but you get the point.)

And before you start judging us: yes, he and I both knew we were being uber dramatic and First World Problem-y.  But it was fun to commiserate and there really was some tiny level of apprehension around our 30s. (Tiny level of apprehension meaning - I literally woke up panicking in the middle of the night more than once during my 29th year. I should switch to decaf and get a life, I know, I know.)

Oh! oh! And the other thing! For females, I feel like this whole getting older thing is even more pressure-filled because we have those baby-producing expiration dates and all that. And we are bombarded with stories of men who only want "younger models" etc. I just felt like my "value" for marriage was decreasing like a car. A really fun sporty car that splashed through mud, but still. And yes, I know I could've just settled down with someone in order to check off the whole Marriage box if I really wanted to, but I physically can't stay with someone just to check a box. I actually really need to love the dude. UGH. ANNOYING.

Anyway, Gina is laughing in our faces by this point while Rod and I are nearly making stoic suicide pacts over our chicken salad. At some point, Gina suggests that maybe Rod and I are climbing ladders of "success" based on wrong assumptions. That maybe we haven't reached the top of the ladders of our potentials, like we feared, but that we actually just need to find a new wall to lean the ladder on.

Ok, I explained that really poorly so if anyone reading this has a psychology degree, maybe you can help elaborate.

Regardless, it helped. Sort of. Rod and I pondered the possibility of New Walls and in the end, he ended up making a very personal/potentially career altering announcement in a very public forum, and me?

I JOINED THE MILITARY.

Well, I'm on my way to joining, anyway.(!!!!) A couple things need to take place first, but I was selected for something in the Navy Reserve.

And yes, I'm absolutely going to yell "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" every time I put on the uniform. I know that movie was about Marines, but yelling "MY EGO IS WRITING CHECKS MY BODY CAN'T CASH!" is not as rewarding...

So -YES! That is the thing I've been keeping from you (...and also my mother). The thing I went after like a spider monkey. The thing that had me running around the Pentagon frantically.

It's such a long story as to how I arrived at this goal, but I'm just thanking the Lord for the journey because it's been amazing on many different levels. I'm sure I'll have more to share (just imagine the embarrassing possibilities awaiting me in a world filled with physical fitness tests, uniforms, and weaponry...). But you know why I was selected? Because I had years of experience behind me.

AKA -- I likely wouldn't have had the slightest chance at this if I were still a fresh little 22 year old. Take that, Past Dana! With your wrinkle-free face!

So, OK, fine. Maybe there are a lot more things to be done even after your 20's. Maybe there are higher walls that I didn't even realize existed when everything seemed so new and shiny and I still felt cute and naive enough to get away with anything.

I'm now trying to look at 30's more the way Olivia Wilde talked about them in Glamour (yes, I just quoted a Hollywood actress and referenced a fashion magazine. I may be joining the U.S. Military, but I am not turning in my Superficial Girl card, child please.) - "Saturn has now orbited the sun once since you've been alive; make this next go-round whatever you want it to be. Consider your baggage (bad boyfriends, job setbacks, body issues) lost by the airline of life, leaving you empty-handed at your new destination with only one choice: Go shopping."

I think I'll do just that, Olivia. Uniform shopping. (...and maybe some new stilletos...) 

I Hope You Fail (The post wherein I quote Ashton Kutcher)

I was asked the other day in an interview to explain a time where I failed. So, apparently, it’s good to have failures if for no other reason than to be able to answer that question in an interview! And, of course, I tried to think of one that didn't make me look too incompetent, but instead just some example of how I’ve learned from something. I described the time a colleague recommended I look into the graduate program he did at Harvard.

Harvard. 

I have to admit, for some reason, that is the Ivy League school I’ve always had on a pedestal in my mind. Not Princeton, or Yale, or even Cambridge where I spent a semester romantically riding my bike around that campus pretending I really was a full-time student there (of course I also spent time around that campus running hysterically down stairs in bookstores and wearing flame retardant suits while driving go-karts, as explained here, but I digress).

So when this man (who incidentally had deployed himself to help with the response efforts I was involved with for Hurricane Katrina and was telling me about this Harvard idea while he was sleeping on the floor of an abandoned mall....) told me he thought I could succeed in this program, I was all about it.

Not about it enough, however, to put much time or thought into the three essays I was supposed to write for my application though.

I realized later that I went into that situation with arrogance. I thought my little work experience, and the fact that this guy was vouching for me, would be enough to get me in.

Fun fact: you actually need to try to impress Harvard. Shocking, I know.

So of course, I got rejected and then life kept going and I never really thought about reapplying, but I used that moment as a lesson to myself to never get cocky or entitled. It’s ignorant and it doesn't work out well.

So that’s the innocuous story I used for my interview, but that’s certainly not the worse failure I’ve had. But you know what? Failure is a really important part of growth. I really dislike working with this new generation of “teacup kids” who are known by the fact that they grew up never being told "No," never experiencing rejection (and ok, I'm actually technically part of that Teacup Generation due to my age, so I'm going to blame that for that whole entitlement moment with the Harvard thing...) But not only does that mentality make for a really obnoxious group of people, it’s also really debilitating to them. Because life can’t be totally controlled. And when something does become hard for them, they are going to panic and crumble.

Whereas if you’ve gone through something once, you fear it less the next time.

I was sitting at my pool yesterday and this little boy was playing with his mother and she’d make him throw a floating ball as far as he could into the pool, and then he’d need to jump in and swim to that ball. It was a goal for him to get him swimming farther and farther. And I heard him say “I’ve done it before so I can do it now.” And I thought to myself how great and simple that was and how adults should keep reminding themselves that about a lot of situations. And the little boy jumped in and got almost to the ball –

and his mother plucked it up and threw it out farther.

Ain't that just like life? Always moving the goal post on your dreams.. Son of a…

But in the words of Ashton Kutcher (never thought I'd say that): "Opportunity ...looks a lot like hard work." You have to put forth effort and along with that, you have to be willing to take risks. 

I do think it’s important to not only work hard, but also to prove to yourself along the way that you can survive failure. It actually feels a lot like surviving embarrassment. For instance, I now know I will not, in fact, die of embarrassment if my pants split open during a run because it happened here, or if the guy who just broke up with me joins an awkward date I’m on, as happened here, or if THIS happens. 

Seriously, who else does that happen to!?

Did I need that many examples? Not sure. But it does make me less fearful about embarrassment. And I've definitely tried out for things and applied for things that I just didn’t make the cut for – and I survived those too. But my – and apparently Ashton Kutcher’s – point is: you can’t stop trying. You can’t expect things to just happen. You really do need to put in effort and risk failure, embarrassment, and disappointment. 

My pastor (who also recently quoted Kutcher… seriously I feel like this is a sign of the end of the world or something) just said something to the effect of “think of those people who you’d most want to be, and I guarantee you, you would not want to travel the road they took to get there.” Everyone sees the “overnight successes” that actually took 20 years of working unnoticed to get to. 

And for anyone who wants Ashton's job, listen to the video below of some of the road he had to take to get there. And for anyone who thinks working in the government sounds great, take a look at some of the roads I've taken here... (ok, so maybe I also take ridiculous roads because I'm curious and can't help myself. You probably shouldn't necessarily seek out opportunities to glue Styrofoam together on your own journey to career-bliss....)

So, I recently applied for something that I really want (I won’t know if I got it for several more weeks so you are just going to have to wait for that news, sorry. It’ll build character.) And as I was sitting with my friends, talking about the application process, my friend Sean interjects with a  “and she went after it like a Spider monkey!” And I had to laugh, because he’s right.  It became like my second full-time job to get in all the pieces I needed for this application and to network like crazy in the area where I’m trying to get to. I wanted to make sure I went above and beyond the criteria and get a buzz going about my motivation. But you know what might also be part of the reason for my spidermonkyness?

Harvard.

Had I not experienced failure, I probably wouldn't fully appreciate the importance of hard work and going after what you want.

So in the end, I wish you all the gift of failure. Having failed at things will teach you what to change the next time. But it also just frees you up from worrying about failing. You’ve already been there and done that. Just wrap tape around your thigh and keep running. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNXwKGZHmDc

That Time I Was On CNN Looking Like a Drowned Rat

To end my 9/11 memories series, let's go back to the two days after the attacks. As I mentioned before, we all returned to work the day after and in the middle of secondary alarms and everything else, my office learns that the President is planning to hold a Day of Prayer and Remembrance at the National Cathedral.

The next day.

And we needed to help with a large chunk of the guest list.

And it's like 4:00 in the afternoon already.

Well, so much for taking a moment to recover from a terrorist attack in your city!

So we go to work immediately. Our job is to contact leaders in religious organizations and coordinate getting their tickets to them the next morning.

And us interns start calling people on behalf of the President.

To this day, that is still one of the coolest moments for me. I called the head of the Salvation Army on behalf of the President. His wife excitedly called him to the phone because clearly *I* was important.

I was 21 at the time.

Living in a two bedroom, one and a half bath apartment with five other girls, in a bad part of the city.

I ate for free at receptions whenever I could and did a food service gig at a football game for extra money.

But for that moment, I was representing the leader of the free world. Ridiculous.

I made only a couple calls before I realized that I could actually serve the cause more with my fast typing skills and I volunteered to take over the data entry portion of our operation as we struggled to find contact information and log tickets in an excel spreadsheet at warp speed.

Hey don't worry about me, guys. Go ahead and call Billy Graham on behalf of the President of the United States. I'd rather TYPE!

Me=not so great at decision making.

We continue late into the night, me typing away hearing my fellow intern yell things like "If Pat Robertson calls for me, tell him I'll be right back!" and we miraculously do pull off our job. We then wake up early the next morning and start handing out tickets.

In the rain.

Because this feat wasn't challenging enough as it is.

Funny enough, one ticket I gave was to my now pastor Mark Batterson. A man I would later camp with in the middle of Ethiopia while we were surrounded by lions and monkeys.

Life is so strange.

Another ticket I gave was to famed Redskins football player, Darrell Green. I literally handed his ticket to him through the window of his car as he drove past me in the rain. That is how frantic this whole operation was.

The last person I remember handing a ticket to?

Jerry Falwell.

So it was quite the day already.

When we finished that task, we ourselves loaded into giant white Martz busses and were taken through the city by police escort to get to the Cathedral just in time for the event to start.

Did I mention this event included nearly every living U.S. president at the time and pretty much every VIP that could possibly get there?

So there was a tiny bit of security. Our buses had to drop us off quite a ways away. So me and my fellow interns trudged, in our suits, in the rain, into the cathedral and were all seated in various spots among the crowd.

Finally. We could relax. And start crying (at least I did) as famous opera singers sang hymns and Billy Graham and President Bush and others spoke.

After it was over, I went to find another intern while other people tried to gather around Presidents Clinton and Bush Senior. As I walked up to my fellow intern Steve, he blurts out "I saw you on t.v.!"

I'm sorry, what was that?

Apparently, Steve was sat behind a column where he could sort of see the stage but also had a television monitor showing the live news coverage of the event. I had been seated on the edge of a row along the middle aisle and apparently, right when my rain-flattened head was tilted to one side as I was crying during a hymn --

CNN panned in on me.

And thus my tired, drowned little face filled television screens across the country for a couple seconds.

Incidentally, that wouldn't be the worst I've looked on television. During Bush's second election, I was at the official election party all night while we awaited the results (which didn't come until the next morning) when I raced home, changed clothes, didn't shower, raced back for the news that we won -- and was promptly interviewed for Channel 1. My sleep-deprived, disheveled mess of a self, babbled on about the win before wandering back to the party. I never saw the footage but I can only imagine what I looked like. Thankfully that channel is only broadcast throughout public schools across the nation and not on regular television...

When we got back to our homes, I was flooded with calls and emails from friends and family members all over the country who had been shocked to see me on the news. Some of my aunts in Washington State said that seeing me unexpectedly somehow gave them comfort in the midst of all the scary, horrifying events that week so I've always thought that was God's doing, because goodness knows why CNN chose me to pan in on me in a room full of people. (And if you ever want to do that again, CNN, could ya give a girl a heads up so she can fluff her hair or something?)

In the end, obviously the events of that week changed every American's life, but it personally changed mine in so many ways. Being at the White House when all of that went down; later serving in the office that was literally creating the new Department of Homeland Security due to the attacks; meeting service members at Walter Reed Army Medical Center who were wounded in the wars that ensued because of those attacks -- it's like 9/11 has been woven into my life ever since. That's why, when Bin Laden was finally taken out, I raced to the White House to celebrate there with one of the girls I interned with so many years before. It felt personal.

And while I don't still have the Jumbo in my apartment, and I'm not sure where the video is of my brief moment on national news, I'll always have these memories of when I was miraculously fortunate enough to be able to be so close to history. And every September, I remember them all again.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/usnationalarchives/sets/72157627484182135/detail/

More September 11th Memories

So two years ago, I posted my memories from spending my second day of working at the White House being evacuated on 9/11 (here).  But so many other things happened around that time.

First of all, we all went back to work the day after 9/11 happened. But obviously nothing was ever the same and everyone was on heightened alert. I remember walking out of the building on 9/11 but I remember running out of the building two days later when there was a report of a potential car bomb on the street outside. (the funny thing is, I did take the time to grab my lunch before running for my life. Some people make sure others get to safety, I make sure my tuna fish sandwich isn't wasted....) But by then, everyone knew what had happened to our country so whenever something suspicious occurred, people overreacted just in case.

One precaution taken was that our office was moved to across the street. Apparently where our office was situated originally left it too vulnerable to the street so a week after I came in early and discovered planes were crashing into buildings, I came in early and found-

our office gone.

Yep, over the weekend it had been moved, yet NO ONE THINKS TO TELL THE ALREADY-SKITTISH INTERN! So I eventually find out where the office moved to, and then I spend part of that week helping hand-carry office furniture between the two places. Because that's what interns do. Whether at a dog grooming company or at the most powerful place in the world, you're gunna staple things and you're gunna pick things up.

Jumbos look like this http://www.pbs.org/programs/presidents-photographer/

And here's where I admit to something I probably shouldn't. So there are these giant photos termed "jumbos" all throughout the White House offices of different scenes throughout the presidency.  

And sometimes staff will take them for keepsakes at the end of the term. Well my fellow intern - also moving furniture - decides now would be a perfect time for us to grab one for ourselves since we were already moving things out of the building. Granted, it was not the end of a term and we hadn't asked anyone if we could take them but we figured - eh, staff do this, these aren't even great pictures and no one will miss them. And since the guards were already used to seeing us schlep things across the street, they didn't even bat an eye when we walked out carrying giant photographs.

Well my conscience quickly gets the best of me and I can't take it anymore. There is a jumbo, in my apartment, and I didn't ask permission! So I finally hang it up over my bed and snap of photo to remember it's existence - and I smuggle it back into the White House compound the next day. Clearly, I picked the right profession - that being anything but a thief. 

So we get all situated in our new office space and calm down from the second building evacuation for the false alarm (when, I might add, I passed a lady on her cell phone apparently telling someone that we were all scurrying around again for another emergency, and all I heard was "I gotta get some ICE CREAM I can't HANDLE this sh*@!" which became my second favorite random outburst on that sidewalk. The first being the man asking passerbys for money each day calling out to me down the street "oh here comes a pretty lady!" then when I got close enough to refuse to give him my cash, he spits out "of course not, you're too STUPID TO BE PRETTY!" Ah, D.C. life.)

But back to the office. So after 9/11, the false alarm evacuation, and all sorts of other alarms around the city, such as antrax letters etc. - our office gets yet another scare.

We get our own suspicious letter.

So now we're all back to being evacuated again. We pile out into the street (I did not grab office furniture or a sandwich to amuse myself this time so of course I was impatient for this to just be over with quickly) and we watch as a real-life robot goes back into our office and fetches the letter. I kid you not. I saw that little thing carry it out while we all stood at a safe distance. At that moment, I think a switch turned on in my head that said "you will never be shocked by anything else in your life again after this semester." And we watch the robot leave and we go back and continue our day.

More to come from those crazy weeks in my next post.

Getting Hazed at the Pentagon

I've mentioned that I'm often looking for new work projects, etc. This week my search took me to The World's Largest Office Building:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pentagon

 The Pentagon.

I ended up heading to this massive symbol of our nation's defense capabilities not once but twice this week on my lunch break on back-to-back days to chat with people about potentially working with them. And my imagination took over as usual and I couldn't help but wonder if I was being tested beyond just interviews.

First test: Physical Endurance
My first meeting was with a nice female officer who picked me up in the lobby and quickly began to whisk me to the Subway restaurant inside the building:

For those of you who have never visited the Pentagon, there is a giant mall inside with everything from Starbucks' (yes, more than one) to clothing stores to dental offices. You literally could live there for days without ever leaving the building. Which is probably both a good and bad thing for those who work there. 

Up ramps, up stairs, down several hallways -- in my heels. All while getting asked questions.

I heard myself trying to answer while simultaneously gasping a little and immediately thought "she's testing me! I'm not in shape enough!"

Jump to the next day, when I'm slightly more prepared for the trek and I'm wearing worn-in heels (I'm sorry, I'm not wearing flats with my interview suit, even if the meeting is taking place is the dang Himalayas...) And that day I'm meeting two different people. So me and the first guy take off and start walking....and walking....forever...

Until finally he asks "do you want to sit or just keep walking?" And surprisingly my heels still feel fine so I bravely say "we can keep walking!"

And then I immediately regret that decision.

My feet start to kill me and we finally get to the next guy's office (up several floors) but he's not there. So the guy I'm with says "hmm, I wonder if he thought he was meeting you in the lobby?"

And that's when I died a little inside as I pictured the marathon distance between me and said lobby and how I was either going to have to crawl, or walk barefoot in the headquarters of the U.S. Department of Defense, to get back there.

Then thankfully the next guy finally walks in. Phew.

Second test: Being on time
Going back to the first day- knowing that there's a security process in order to get into this place, I arrive half an hour early for my meeting and proceed to feel smug when I get past the metal detectors and situate myself in the lobby well before my escort showed up.

That half-hour buffer failed me on the second day, however.

I arrive in time to see a line about, oh, 127 times the length of the line the day before and I walk up to join the end of it and hear people say "this is the worst I've ever seen security!"

Crap.

Am I being tested? Punctuality seems like kind of a big deal to the military. I'm so getting judged for this...

Third test: Rank
I assume members of the military don't expect civilians to automatically understand rank but I try to fit into my surroundings regardless. This is extra confusing, however, because the men I'm meeting that day are also technically my colleagues. (They both work for my company but they also serve "part-time" in the Navy.)

So my first meeting was with a Navy lieutenant-commander and my meeting after that was with a Captain (which is a fairly high rank in the Navy, although it's not as high in the Army. Confused yet? Me too.) And to top it all off, both men are the same "rank" as I am at my consulting firm. But they just happened to be wearing their navy "hats" on this day, leaving me to wonder what "hat" I should wear - do I call you by your first name like I would at our company? Do I call you by your title? Do you say the full "lieutenant-commander" phrase or is it just "lieutenant?" Just "commander"? Should I shout out individual letters like I'm a rapper? "L -T- C! in the hooow-use!" (I did not choose that one)

(and before my military friends jump in to inform me, I now know it's just "commander.")

I went with just trying not to address them directly at all.

Yet another test.

Final test: Sound mind
In addition to worrying about what I look like, my punctuality, how heavily I'm breathing while walking, and whether or not I accidentally refer to someone as "Captain Joe Commander Lieutenant," I also start to notice things that make me feel like I'm being punk'd.

First, all my meetings were in random food areas -- does no one use conference rooms around here? Am I being watched?

Then, the first guy (during our ridiculously long walk that I foolishly agreed to) walks me all the way down to one of the Starbucks in the basement, then we find a table in a nice little corner of a food court area. Then, when we go all the way back up a couple floors to hand me off to the next man upstairs in his office, that next man immediately asks if I'd mind-

- if we go down to the food court.

Sigh.

So here I go again, and we go to the exact same Starbucks I was just at, and we go to - I kid you not - nearly the exact same table in the food court that I just sat at with the last guy. This place covers 583 acres, how the heck do I keep ending up in the exact same corner? Are they testing my observation skills? Is that particular corner bugged for interviews?

In the end, I'm sure all of this paranoia was in my own head and the only thing they likely judged me on was my personality and ability to sound halfway intelligent (which we can all agree should also cause me concern, but I digress) but it made for a fun break in the day in any case.

And of course any day I get to spend with men in uniform...

is clearly a good day to me, hazing or not.

Still Wondering What To Be When I Grow Up

I'm going to re-post yet another old post because it once again accurately describes my current life.

I mentioned that I've decided I want to get back into disaster work somehow. But I didn't mention that I also have an interest in doing something pertaining to: international travel, homeland security, defense, and/or being a roadie for the Foo Fighters.

Okay that last part is false. Actually, no it's not, that would be awesome.

Anyway, I'm once again looking for "what's next" as far as work projects go so I'm once again canvassing my networks for opportunities. But it's hard to explain what I want to do since my interests are, like me: all over the place. 

Here's to hoping for a job where I travel internationally with a band while simultaneously fighting terrorists....

(Originally Posted Thursday, August 4, 2011)

Resume Ramblings

In my line of work, you work on projects. They can be for one day or for many years. But whenever they end, you have to find another one. I'm currently on the market for my next one and my philosophy is, Go Big Or Go Home, so instead of just sticking to my "team" within our company - I've reached across ALL the teams in our company. Just to see what might be available. I mean, maybe I'm actually really gifted at Rocket Science and just haven't had an opportunity to test that out, ya know?

So of course this casting-the-net-wide approach to finding a project has returned some interesting responses and I had to start laughing after one too many replies asking "do you know how to do this?" "do you have experience in this?" "how 'bout this?" I told my coworker that I expected to start getting emails like "how about underwater basket weaving?” "dental hygienist?" "used car sales?" And my answer is always "not specifically, but I’m willing to try..."

It reminded me of a story an old friend told me about her time as an Army Mechanic (a profession she thoughtlessly chose after she "came off a three month bender"). When I asked her if she knew what she was doing as a mechanic, she said "Nope. You just hammered it 'til it fit, then painted it to match!"

HA! I feel like I'm trying to do that to myself these days....

Anyway, one man recently looked at my experience and could not stop saying "You have a lot of 'oh crap! Stuff's going down!' expertise!" referring to all the jobs I've had dealing with national disasters. (Incidentally, I was also recently told I should wear Caution Tape around me, but that was referring to my Disastrous Dating life and how it was only fair to warn unsuspecting suitors, so not really work-related, but I digress...)

I thought his description was hilarious. I suppose that's one way to put it. Maybe that should be a bullet point on my resume. "Deals nicely in Oh Crap! environments"

Side note: An acquaintance of mine once had someone give him a resume with a bullet point that said, "Can withstand large amounts of pain for prolonged periods of time." I had to be impressed by that, but wonder - what kind of job was that person LOOKING for that would necessitate that skill??

Anyway, I really hate writing about my experience and tailoring my resume, etc. We have annual assessments at my firm and every year I find myself just wanting to say "I did a bunch of things. Well. The end." I'm horrible at remembering details and I always walk the line of "did I overstate that or understate that?" Like, "Can I call myself Her Majesty of PowerPoint Presentations, or is that a stretch?...."

Usually I understate - and that is not good either. I once had a manager talk through my assessment with me and someone else who was talking better about me than I was. Everything was accurate, but it was worded in a way that even I was impressed. Like, "I did that? Really? I should get a RAISE!"

After the discussion, my manager looked at me and said:

"I had no idea what you've been doing. I was treating you like some old shoe!"

Some. Old. Shoe. Excellent title....

Another Side Note: I once had a client who insisted I ride with him in between meetings on a trip we were on. I had set up the meetings, prepared briefs, etc. I even mapped out directions just in case our local driver needed them. The "title" my client gave me for that trip? SHERPA. Now you might think that's a respectful title given what Sherpa's actually do, but I'm fairly certain he just meant I was the "Briefing Book Lug-Arounder" Sigh.

So I'm now re-tailoring my resume almost daily and struggling to figure out what exactly my real skills are. And what I actually enjoy doing. "Thrives in Chaos" is definitely a skill I have. "Enjoys coordinating a hundred different things simultaneously". "Has a very random network so if you DO need a Rocket Scientist, I know a guy..."

Anyone out there have similar problems? Am I the only one in her 30's who still doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up?

Event Conclusion

I know I still owe you the last post of my Japan adventure, but first I'll finish telling you how my recent work event concluded.

The third morning started around 6:00am. I had one of our biggest speakers showing up about 8:30 and had some other meetings and side events before that happened.

The speaker showed up sooner than expected, he and his entourage driving straight into the building through a back entrance in two black Suburbans.

I love when that happens.

So me and my client rush over to shake his hand and I fall in line walking right behind him, and right in front of the biggest security guard you've ever seen.

And I'm so in the zone that I don't even see the giant guard at all. As in, after the event was over, my coworker commented on how large this man was and I didn't know who he was talking about. It wasn't until I saw a photo later of us all marching down the secret back hallway that I realized who I'd slid right in front of in my effort to keep pace with the speaker:

I should probably work on my observation skills....

Anyway, we start to prepare everything backstage and begin the program.

And the entire program ends up including:

1, a total of four sex jokes told from the stage, some made by a former cabinet member and some made by a former governor...

2. one of the event staff having to squat down in front of the stage - in front of thousands of people in the audience -- and tell a tycoon that his time was up

3. a prominent politician deciding he needed to use the bathroom right as he should've been going on stage

I was not pleased. I had finally gotten that speaker up the stairs and into the capable hands of my staff behind the curtain and as I'm breathing a sigh of relief -- back down the stairs he marches, right past my shocked and confused face while I'm stammering "him...supposed to be on stage...right now!" and my team member just looks at me and says "He has to use the bathroom...." and we both stare in horror at the speaker disappearing into a dressing room. And then I hear the backstage staff squawking in my earpiece about needing him on stage and all I can do is say "yep, I realize that...." 

4. a prominent senator showing up over 30 minutes late because their driver got lost

That ended up messing with our program so badly that my client later described what we went through next as the I Love Lucy scene in the chocolate factory:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnbNcQlzV-4

Except instead of chocolates, we were frantically trying to fit all our other speakers in at different times and every time we tried to move one, it seemed we would lose another one, so we'd try something else, and the cycle went on for awhile...

"...If we move X back, he won't make his meeting at the White House..."

"... well we can't move Y up because her flight doesn't land in time..."

"...could we throw these two people together up on stage?..."

"...do we have to let our boss speak?...."

Slippery little devils, those chocolates. I mean speakers.

5. We had to get one of our speakers toast with salt.

When I'm famous and powerful, I'm totally asking for more interesting stuff than red M&Ms, hot food, and salty toast.

"Yes, Miss Dana will need a bounce house and a hibachi grill in her dressing room please. Thanks."

6. I saw two different adults dancing backstage from nervousness. One of them was my client.

I'm sure I'm forgetting countless other things we endured but my brain is fried and I can't think of them all. I will, however, tell you what happened when I went to take Chloe back home.

Do you remember in my first post on this event where I said I visited our venue twice in the same day the day before our event started?

So about that.....

The night before our event ended, I knew I needed to deliver my contraband feline back to our apartment because I'd need to check out of my room the next morning and I'd have no place to store her for the rest of the day until the event ended.

So late Tuesday night, I shove Chloe back into her carrier and make my way out into the cold to locate my car.

And my feet hurt. And it's raining. And Chloe is bouncing around in essentially a pink duffel bag with airholes.

We are pathetic.

And I take the elevator all the way to the top of the parking garage, because I distinctly remember having to park up there because the cheerleader invasion had taken up every other floor back when I first arrived.

When I first arrived, that is, the first time. I completely forgot that I went back home after that, and the second time ...that I first arrived... I parked on the bottom floor. Confused? So was I.

And I told you HERE about how my car was stolen back in the day. Well, the latent effects from that have been extra paranoia around my car. Every time I can't find it -- I immediately think it's been stolen (it's usually been towed. ahem.) So when I can't find my car in the garage, I get slightly panicked.

And it's late, and it's dark, and there's no one around except a scary looking van parked on the floor I'm on, and my feet hurt and I have a cat sloshing in a duffel bag on my hip.

In other words -- I'm done.

So first, I set Chloe down and look around the immediate area, up one floor, down one floor, and my feet can't take it anymore and I'm picturing myself getting kidnapped by whoever owns that van. So I call my vendor.

She assures me the hotel would not have towed it and she can hear in my voice that I'm panicked so she sends out hotel security to pick me up.

Great. So much for hiding my cat.

I'm so tired, I let the security guy come for me. I move Chloe back into the elevator bank and I just sit down on the floor, in my suit and my pearls and I wait to be rescued.

And the guard comes and I stuff Chloe in his backseat, I sit down in the front and I explain why I know for sure that my car was on the top because I distinctly remember having to go up every floor because of the dang cheerleaders on Sunday morni....

Oh. Crap.

And that's when I realize I parked in a different spot Sunday night.

I immediately begin apologizing profusely. "I'm SO sorry, it's been a long week, and I was scarred from having my car stolen a decade ago, and....and...."

And the guard is so great and tells me this happens a lot (I doubt it) and says "hey, I have to work until 11pm regardless" so he doesn't care how he spends that time.

And we get back down to the first floor and I get ready to start thanking him profusely and he just turns and smiles and says "this was fun!"

I may have just had a date with the security guard.

Doesn't matter! He didn't say anything about Chloe and I can finally drive her to my apartment, turn in my homework while I'm there since I couldn't get the internet to work for me in my hotel room (of course), and get back to my fluffy hotel bed and my belching Shrek wake up call.

And on my drive back I decide to treat myself to a McDonald's ice cream cone on the exit back to the hotel. And I bite into that ice cream:

and find a piece of plastic in it.

You can't make this stuff up....

So I throw the ice cream out, give up on the day, finish my event, chocolate factory moments and all, and mark another work adventure down in the history books.

Aaaand exhale.

Event Planning Adventures Continued

So we left off with my arrival at the hotel at our venue. I'm pretty sure the suite I had was bigger than my actual apartment, and I took no time before wrapping myself in the plush robe and enjoying the amenities. I also took advantage of the fact that you could choose from an assortment of cartoon characters for your wake up call. Having Shrek belch in my ear first thing starts the day off with just the touch of class I enjoy.

Anyway, the first day of the event actually went fairly smoothly outside of the usual bumps - starting late, explaining the cues, dealing with an angry Swedish man who refused to stay put because he was convinced someone would steal his computer that was already on stage....you know, the usual stuff.

The next morning started our first full day and held much more excitement. Beginning with the fact that despite me leaving the "do not disturb" sign on my door, the maid still came in. Awesome. I now need to leave a tip just to buy her silence since she inevitably saw the cat things lying around my room (although I doubt she ever actually saw the cat, seeing as Chloe spent her time there in terror, slunking between hiding behind the curtain and hiding behind the bathroom door. My little disfunctional baby. Sigh.)

I get to the event venue and work around until it's time to be backstage. We have an eclectic group of speakers each year so it's always interesting overhearing the conversations that take place in the green room. Like when I heard a former governor tell a southern tycoon that they need to get "43" down to his place sometime soon. "43" being -- George W. Bush, the 43rd President of the United States. Ah, you gotta love politics.

Sometime that morning, I was told that one of our speakers -- who has recently had a slight falling out with our organization - had not been heard from and we weren't even sure he'd still be coming.

He was due on stage that afternoon.

Awesome.

Thankfully, he does arrive but we feel like we need to handle him with kid gloves and we've also heard that he's a bit of a diva anyway. He's a billionaire, I suppose they often get that way.

I deploy one of my volunteers to bring him down the hall, and do you remember when I posted about my first Advance job HERE and the guy I'm working under tells me he had to tell someone to go sit in a corner because they started to freak out on game day?

I nearly had to tell my volunteer to go sit in a corner.

He's already flustered being the "handler" for Needy Billionaire and apparently Needy asks for food. So my volunteer comes out frantically and I calmly tell him that we have sandwiches just for this type of situation.

But Needy doesn't want a sandwich. He wants hot food.

So my volunteer goes racing to another part of our venue to find a plate of hot food. And he comes racing back to where I'm standing outside the green room and -

he drops the entire plate. Shattering on the ground. Right outside the door of the green room.

And he loses it.

This is an attractive, intelligent, successful young man and he flails his arms and curses and sputters at me "this has to be cleaned up! Now!"

You don't say?....

So now I'm trying to calm him down, hoping Needy Billionaire doesn't charge through the door and step on broken dinnerware, calling on my headset for a clean up crew and someone to fetch more hot food, and up walks another VIP speaker-

a former White House official who has to step over the mess to get into the green room.

So far, this is going so well....

And did I mention the headset? Yes. Throughout the entire event, I felt exactly like Jennifer Lopez in The Wedding Planner scene where she's walking around with a smile and all chaos is breaking loose backstage so she's barking out orders through her teeth on her headset like so:

http://www.gathertogetherevents.com/blog/2012/12/10/a-day-in-the-life.html

I have to admit, it was fun. Not quite as fun as the Secret Service type ear pieces we used during Presidential events back in the day:

I'm smirking because that is NOT my vest...but I was wearing a cool earpiece, trust me....

but fun nonetheless.

So this day also included:

- technical difficulties on stage
- a speaker whose staff had told us needed a bowl of only red M&Ms (turns out they were joking, but we didn't realize that at first...)
-me and my client fearing that she'd slip and call an important General "J Meister" to his face, or some other funny name we had been jokingly using for him in an effort to dispel nervous energy
and
-me nearly forcing an aide to march into the men's room and retrieve a Senator who had been in there forever and was supposed to go on stage.

At least I didn't have it as bad as the AV guys, who could hear everything once someone had their lapel mic on. At one point they apparently all looked at each other, one saying "what's that noise?" while the other somberly answering "The Congressman has gone to the bathroom..."

Another day in the life of event managers.

And we had one more day to go....