Springtime is all about flowers blossoming, birds chirping, wardrobe replenishing (yes, especially that) and also - CV updating. After much procrastination, I decided that looking for a new job (for whenever the hiring freezes finally melt) would be a lot easier if I had an updated resumé sous le coude. And so a drizzly Sunday afternoon was filled with CV fun, such as finding "action words" to start bullet points with and innovative ways to say "I'm really good at aligning boxes on a powerpoint slide."
I decided to stick with the "skill set" CV most of us adopted at INSEAD, which works particularly well if you've done very different things in your career, and are applying to do yet another completely different thing. Filling in the law firm jobs sections was relatively pain-free (mostly thanks to the fact that I had already gone through the process last year and therefore didn't need to do much other than the odd nip and tuck). But the BM section... now, that was a real brainteaser.
Honestly, it's not that I haven't learned anything at BM, no matter what I might say when I'm on a whinge binge. I've noticed, particularly over the last month or so, that I'm not quite the same person I was when I started. I clearly have developed new reflexes and thought processes that I would have been incapable of a year ago, never mind three years ago when I was still a lawyer through and through. No, the problem isn't that nothing's been learnt; the problem is that "consulting skills" are unbelievably difficult (for me) to explain. I can only seem to define them by what they aren't. You don't learn anything about steel production, or asset management, or luxury distribution, or whatever else you're pontificating about that day. You don't learn how to do anything that, in theory, your clients couldn't do themselves, like defend a billion-dollar lawsuit or repair faulty plumbing. But you do learn something. And it is useful, I think (hope). Maybe it's more like a sixth sense - but I can't really put that down on my CV (skill: I see dead people?!)...
Besides creating my CV (on Excel, I really am becoming a consultant) I spent the rest of the weekend wallowing. I didn't go to the gym, I didn't go out, I didn't clean the apartment. I just stayed in bed, cried my eyes out, and wondered whether all this chest pain was a sign of an impending heart attack. But I'm still standing so I guess it just means that getting your heart broken does actually physically hurt your heart. I'd forgotten. Wallowing may not be either productive or pleasant, but it is one of those things you just need to go through to get it out of your system. My hope is the good old system will be spic and span and entirely rid of all evil residue by the time I go to my friend's wedding in London this weekend and then jet of to New York.
Happiness minus 5 days and counting.
Apr 19, 2009
Apr 9, 2009
My own private Madoff
Until recently, the common expectation was that if you did your research, used your head and invested in something, you'd get a return. Times have changed. These days, you think everything through, you take advice, you follow all the rules and do exactly what you're supposed to do, and you get screwed. This is the new world order.
As you've probably gathered from past posts, I'm not entirely thrilled with my job so far. In fact, to be honest, I don't really know why on earth I bother getting up in the morning anymore. But I do. Because that's what I was taught: do the right thing, invest your time, your energy, your heart, your health, your sanity, whatever it takes, and you will eventually reap the rewards.
Really?
I had an interesting conversation with my boss last night. Due to an unfortunate alignment of the stars having to do with ex-boyfriends, ex-cats, new medication, long hours and very rude clients, I ended up breaking apart at the seams in the hallway of the office and getting dragged into a one-hour sob-fest with a well-intentioned partner. And what he told me has given me some real food for thought. In a nutshell, he said it was perfectly normal for me to be feeling miserable in my job. He also said I was unlikely to feel any happier about it... ever. Nonetheless, he recommends that I stick it out for at least another 18 months because "it will all be worth it in the end." Ah yes, the "return on investment" promise.
So what are 18 months of misery worth? How should I price my well-being over that period? And what kind of pay-off would make that investment worth it? Money? Prestige? Pride? Who knows...
Somehow, my life is slowly starting to resemble one of Bartolome's case studies. And that is not a good thing.
As you've probably gathered from past posts, I'm not entirely thrilled with my job so far. In fact, to be honest, I don't really know why on earth I bother getting up in the morning anymore. But I do. Because that's what I was taught: do the right thing, invest your time, your energy, your heart, your health, your sanity, whatever it takes, and you will eventually reap the rewards.
Really?
I had an interesting conversation with my boss last night. Due to an unfortunate alignment of the stars having to do with ex-boyfriends, ex-cats, new medication, long hours and very rude clients, I ended up breaking apart at the seams in the hallway of the office and getting dragged into a one-hour sob-fest with a well-intentioned partner. And what he told me has given me some real food for thought. In a nutshell, he said it was perfectly normal for me to be feeling miserable in my job. He also said I was unlikely to feel any happier about it... ever. Nonetheless, he recommends that I stick it out for at least another 18 months because "it will all be worth it in the end." Ah yes, the "return on investment" promise.
So what are 18 months of misery worth? How should I price my well-being over that period? And what kind of pay-off would make that investment worth it? Money? Prestige? Pride? Who knows...
Somehow, my life is slowly starting to resemble one of Bartolome's case studies. And that is not a good thing.
Apr 4, 2009
I'm jammin'
People who know me will tell you that I'm not much of a gym girl. Mostly because I'm a lazy cow who can always think of better things to do than exercise (and yes, watching old episodes of Beverly Hills 90210 dubbed in French counts). Also, I don't like gyms. They're invariably smelly and people look ugly in them and the lighting doesn't do me any favours and honestly, having to shower in front of loads of naked girls may be your fantasy, but it's not mine.
Nonetheless, exercise must be had, especially when one is: a) quitting smoking, and b) stuffing one's face with disgusting sandwiches and butter-filled pastries all day in a depressing team room.
So, as I have previously noted in these pages, I have joined a gym. And it's not so bad, really. I mean sure, it's filled with gay men and girls who look like they could beat me up with their pinkie finger, and it's more "dive bar grunge" than "health spa chic", but it's right next to my flat (meaning I can shower at home) and the classes are fantastic.
I tested my first class today: Body Jam. Probably the best exercise I've had in a very long time (ok, that's not saying much, but still it's really good exercise). And it's essentially a dance class, which makes it much more palatable for exercise-phobes like myself. During one hour, the teacher mixes up hip-hop, salsa, Bob Fosse-esque cabaret, etc. and makes sure you never, ever stop moving. I was having an absolutely fabulous time until we had to turn to face the mirrors, and I realized that instead of the ultimate hip-hop babe I thought I was, I looked like a Park Avenue princess who took a wrong turn on her way to ballet...
Whatever. I'm cool on the inside.
Nonetheless, exercise must be had, especially when one is: a) quitting smoking, and b) stuffing one's face with disgusting sandwiches and butter-filled pastries all day in a depressing team room.
So, as I have previously noted in these pages, I have joined a gym. And it's not so bad, really. I mean sure, it's filled with gay men and girls who look like they could beat me up with their pinkie finger, and it's more "dive bar grunge" than "health spa chic", but it's right next to my flat (meaning I can shower at home) and the classes are fantastic.
I tested my first class today: Body Jam. Probably the best exercise I've had in a very long time (ok, that's not saying much, but still it's really good exercise). And it's essentially a dance class, which makes it much more palatable for exercise-phobes like myself. During one hour, the teacher mixes up hip-hop, salsa, Bob Fosse-esque cabaret, etc. and makes sure you never, ever stop moving. I was having an absolutely fabulous time until we had to turn to face the mirrors, and I realized that instead of the ultimate hip-hop babe I thought I was, I looked like a Park Avenue princess who took a wrong turn on her way to ballet...
Whatever. I'm cool on the inside.
Mar 26, 2009
What defines me
Just found this entry on Schott's Vocab blog and couldn't resist sharing:
"Amortality
A state of hopeful agelessness wherein one acts the same from adolescence to the grave.
Catherine Mayer related her theory of amortality in Time magazine:
It’s about more than just the ripple effect of baby boomers’ resisting the onset of age. Amortality is a stranger, stronger alchemy, created by the intersection of that trend with a massive increase in life expectancy and a deep decline in the influence of organized religion – all viewed through the blue haze of Viagra. …
Amortals live among us. In their teens and 20s, they may seem preternaturally experienced. In later life, they often look young and dress younger. They have kids early or late – sometimes very late – or not at all. Their emotional lives are as chaotic as their financial planning. The defining characteristic of amortality is to live in the same way, at the same pitch, doing and consuming much the same things, from late teens right up until death.
According to Mayer, Simon Cowell, Madonna, Nicolas Sarkozy and Mark Zuckerberg are just some of those who inhabit the amortal realm."
Wow, I'm part of a realm?! (not sure I'm totally happy about the company...)
"Amortality
A state of hopeful agelessness wherein one acts the same from adolescence to the grave.
Catherine Mayer related her theory of amortality in Time magazine:
It’s about more than just the ripple effect of baby boomers’ resisting the onset of age. Amortality is a stranger, stronger alchemy, created by the intersection of that trend with a massive increase in life expectancy and a deep decline in the influence of organized religion – all viewed through the blue haze of Viagra. …
Amortals live among us. In their teens and 20s, they may seem preternaturally experienced. In later life, they often look young and dress younger. They have kids early or late – sometimes very late – or not at all. Their emotional lives are as chaotic as their financial planning. The defining characteristic of amortality is to live in the same way, at the same pitch, doing and consuming much the same things, from late teens right up until death.
According to Mayer, Simon Cowell, Madonna, Nicolas Sarkozy and Mark Zuckerberg are just some of those who inhabit the amortal realm."
Wow, I'm part of a realm?! (not sure I'm totally happy about the company...)
Mar 22, 2009
Le temps des bonnes résolutions
Most people make resolutions at new year's. I never do. I mean really, what's so special about new year's? The only thing that actually happens at new year's is you drag yourself to an inevitably disappointing party, you drink too much in the vain hope that this way you'll actually have a good time, and you wake up the next morning with nothing to show for it other than a massive hangover and a faint recollection that you may have mistakenly kissed the wrong person at midnight. (no mom, dad, none of that actually ever happens to me, only to other people, promise)
But I have decided now is the perfect time to make resolutions. To be honest, 2009 so far has been a bit of a disaster, and I just came out of a rather scary hospital stint, so this is it. Spring resolution time.
1. I will quit smoking: Two weeks without a cigarette so far. Well, almost. I sort of dipped a toe out of the wagon last night and smoked two itty bitty ciggies over cocktails, but otherwise I'm doing well. My favourite thing about not smoking so far: I smell lovely!
2. I will go to the gym: Besides being good for my health, this is also a necessary corollary to resolution no. 1, unless I want to gain 20 kilos and look like a dumpy potato. So today was my first gym excursion. As I'm still recovering and a bit on the weak side, all I managed was 30 minutes at a slow pace on the bike, but still, it felt good.
Small aside: Over the past years more and more "women only" gyms have been cropping up, including in Paris. Lucky for me, going to a gym in the Marais means getting equivalent treatment at half the price! I had trouble suppressing a smile when I realized that my tiny pocket-sized gym has not one but two men's locker rooms (in fact I walked into one of them by mistake when I couldn't find the hidden girls' lockers... oops)
3. I will blog more: Because it's fun. Even if no one reads it.
4. I will find a new job: If you know which company I work for, or if you actually work there yourself, please don't tell anyone. It's not that BM isn't a nice place (in fact I have to say they went above and beyond when I was sick; one of the senior partners even sent macarons to my house) or that consulting isn't a good career option, it just isn't for me. For two main reasons: first, I like being a lawyer, and I miss it; and second, the older I get the more I re-prioritize things, and it turns out I would happily trade in some of the prestige (and cash) for a nice, quiet job where I can go home at 7 or 8pm every day. So that's what I'm going hunting for now (I sure know how to pick my timing, don't I?!) In fact, I have a lunch coming up that could have serious potential. More on that later.
5. I will plan lots of fun weekends and holidays: First up in April, a weekend in London complete with a close friend's wedding, followed by five days in New York, my home away from home. I can't wait! I've also started mulling over various plans for the summer, but I don't want to book anything until I have a better idea of what might happen job-wise...
6. I will be absolutely fabulous and some amazing guy will fall in love with me and whisk me away on his white horse to his incredible mansion filled with designer clothes and Manolos: What?! No one ever said resolutions had to be realistic...
So these are my resolutions. Yes, they all have to do with me, and that might make me highly ego-maniacal, but hey: it's my life. Besides, if I get a little happier I'll probably be loads more fun to hang out with, so that's good for my friends and family too. (Am I reaching?!)
But I have decided now is the perfect time to make resolutions. To be honest, 2009 so far has been a bit of a disaster, and I just came out of a rather scary hospital stint, so this is it. Spring resolution time.
1. I will quit smoking: Two weeks without a cigarette so far. Well, almost. I sort of dipped a toe out of the wagon last night and smoked two itty bitty ciggies over cocktails, but otherwise I'm doing well. My favourite thing about not smoking so far: I smell lovely!
2. I will go to the gym: Besides being good for my health, this is also a necessary corollary to resolution no. 1, unless I want to gain 20 kilos and look like a dumpy potato. So today was my first gym excursion. As I'm still recovering and a bit on the weak side, all I managed was 30 minutes at a slow pace on the bike, but still, it felt good.
Small aside: Over the past years more and more "women only" gyms have been cropping up, including in Paris. Lucky for me, going to a gym in the Marais means getting equivalent treatment at half the price! I had trouble suppressing a smile when I realized that my tiny pocket-sized gym has not one but two men's locker rooms (in fact I walked into one of them by mistake when I couldn't find the hidden girls' lockers... oops)
3. I will blog more: Because it's fun. Even if no one reads it.
4. I will find a new job: If you know which company I work for, or if you actually work there yourself, please don't tell anyone. It's not that BM isn't a nice place (in fact I have to say they went above and beyond when I was sick; one of the senior partners even sent macarons to my house) or that consulting isn't a good career option, it just isn't for me. For two main reasons: first, I like being a lawyer, and I miss it; and second, the older I get the more I re-prioritize things, and it turns out I would happily trade in some of the prestige (and cash) for a nice, quiet job where I can go home at 7 or 8pm every day. So that's what I'm going hunting for now (I sure know how to pick my timing, don't I?!) In fact, I have a lunch coming up that could have serious potential. More on that later.
5. I will plan lots of fun weekends and holidays: First up in April, a weekend in London complete with a close friend's wedding, followed by five days in New York, my home away from home. I can't wait! I've also started mulling over various plans for the summer, but I don't want to book anything until I have a better idea of what might happen job-wise...
6. I will be absolutely fabulous and some amazing guy will fall in love with me and whisk me away on his white horse to his incredible mansion filled with designer clothes and Manolos: What?! No one ever said resolutions had to be realistic...
So these are my resolutions. Yes, they all have to do with me, and that might make me highly ego-maniacal, but hey: it's my life. Besides, if I get a little happier I'll probably be loads more fun to hang out with, so that's good for my friends and family too. (Am I reaching?!)
Mar 18, 2009
Mar 16, 2009
A day of silly
One of the things I love about not being at work (besides getting my gluttonous fill of Elle, Cosmo, Gala, etc...) is skimming through the "silly news", those stories that, while not quite news, still somehow manage to make it to the top of the BBC News website. OK, I have to be honest, I do that when I'm at work too.
In any event, two titillating snippets caught my eye yesterday as I lay browsing. First, North Korea has apparently opened its first pizzeria. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, those lucky subjects of Kim Jong-il will no longer be deprived of mozzarella toppings and cheesy crust; all is right again in the world. According to the article, the driver behind the restaurant's opening (for which North Korean chefs were sent to Italy to be specially trained) is to allow North Koreans "access to the world's famous dishes." Seriously? Pizza? Now I'm the biggest Italian-restaurant junkie there is, but again I ask: seriously? Pizza?
Now if you thought that was disturbing, check out this next item: "Brain decline begins at age 27". OMG. Whatever you do, don't tell BM. I think they thought they were actually getting a good deal, what with me being an MBA-toting lawyer and all, but apparently I am but an addled brain far past its prime and bordering on senility. Well, actually, that explains a few things.
Enough silly news for now. In actual res ipsa news, my health is coming back at a gallop, which is nice. Objectively speaking, I'm certainly not in top form, but the difference is so striking from a few days ago that I feel like I'm in the best shape of my life and could casually saunter out the door and run a marathon. An observation which has led me to discover the meaning of life (really).
Here it is.
You ready for it?
OK.
It has nothing to do with your actual state of being. It's all about the delta.
I'll let you think about that for a while...
In any event, two titillating snippets caught my eye yesterday as I lay browsing. First, North Korea has apparently opened its first pizzeria. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, those lucky subjects of Kim Jong-il will no longer be deprived of mozzarella toppings and cheesy crust; all is right again in the world. According to the article, the driver behind the restaurant's opening (for which North Korean chefs were sent to Italy to be specially trained) is to allow North Koreans "access to the world's famous dishes." Seriously? Pizza? Now I'm the biggest Italian-restaurant junkie there is, but again I ask: seriously? Pizza?
Now if you thought that was disturbing, check out this next item: "Brain decline begins at age 27". OMG. Whatever you do, don't tell BM. I think they thought they were actually getting a good deal, what with me being an MBA-toting lawyer and all, but apparently I am but an addled brain far past its prime and bordering on senility. Well, actually, that explains a few things.
Enough silly news for now. In actual res ipsa news, my health is coming back at a gallop, which is nice. Objectively speaking, I'm certainly not in top form, but the difference is so striking from a few days ago that I feel like I'm in the best shape of my life and could casually saunter out the door and run a marathon. An observation which has led me to discover the meaning of life (really).
Here it is.
You ready for it?
OK.
It has nothing to do with your actual state of being. It's all about the delta.
I'll let you think about that for a while...
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