I am minorly obsessed with the Kennedys

I am a sales rep in the world of media.  

There are a million of me.   

We go out in to the world, bustling down Michigan Avenue in our clicky heels, FUN work clothes and see ad agencies and show them our magazine's new font, or our amazing new online content, or our amazing mobile technology, or our amazing new video technology, or our best-in-class social platform, or our first-to-market amazing data, or our blah blah blergh blergh acronym blah blah.  

And then we let the client talk.

Many of me drive fancy cars, regularly get blow outs and put big ribbon bows in their daughter’s hair, so they look like Caroline Kennedy, wintering in Palm Beach.

Some of the me's dress the girl children in Lilly Pulitzer and the boy children in polo shirts like little tiny pro-golfers.  And then they monogram those outfits so no one gets confused on who is who.

Some of us have furs.  

Some of us are not like the others.  We belly laugh, and eat food with meat for lunch. We wear clothes from the Gap, or Target.

All of us are here for the same reason---to make $, to have some flexibility, because we can present, and keep excel charts nice and tidy.  

And,  as a plus, it's actually a really interesting industry.  

So, I wake up late, shower and get dressed, put on my business lady costume, pack up my TJ Maxx bag with magazines, my laptop/ipad/iphone and take a walk to a business lady meeting!  

I see people I know on the street, say hi, grab a coffee and it's like I'm god-damn Mary Tyler Moore!  

Once, I was out for a business lady lunch with 5 really fun gals.   These are my colleagues, not my clients.

Two of them were skinny minnys—but they kept talking about how fat they felt, how fat they were, how they had gone from a size 4 to a size 6 fat fat FAT!

The other 3 of us were what I would describe as “normal”---and I was just staring in disbelief.  You know how we aren’t supposed to judge, blah blah blah?  I judge.  I do. 

I felt like a pig invited to a light lunch at their favorite meadow with a bunch of tiny little lady deer.  They feasted on locally sourced grass and had really nice fur while I rooted around for food scraps and the deer discussed which meadow is best to raise their yearlings in.

"Oh, I am looking at Western Meadows!,

"But the schools aren't as good as Hooves dale.  We are staying in the urban meadow, but sending our fawns to Roman Deer Parish school".

I can't tell what to talk about---the cta?  Shopping?  TV shows?  Is it because I'm single?  No kids?  Am I jealous?  

No, not exactly.  But I don't fit in.  I know about deers, and deer development and enjoy hearing about the latest fawn antics---but our lives are just so different.

I wear my hair naturally curly and some of them blow dry their hair every morning.  I think they shop a lot but then complain about not being able to afford to stay-at-home with their kids.  

I like to shock them every once in a while when they talk about their bikini waxes before giving birth and I tell them "Mine is like the 70s down there".

I am not like the others.   So I quit.

(ps the hair bows are really cute.  But sometimes, they just seem really really big.  And I really worry when they put them on newborns that the garters will stop the baby's skull development. But it's important that we know this baby is a girl.)

Hipster Foosball tables can't make up for a shitty job

I gave a talk at a cool event called "Ignite".  It was all about the gig economy, and how I'm trying to swing it for myself.  You create a digital slide show and it auto advances as you present.  My first slide was of a bunch of tech workers hunched over their computers with a foosball table in the foreground, and read "A hipster foosball table can't make up for a shitty job".  That got applause from the attendees, a hundred or so tech/writers/coders/engineers, etc.

It's an awesome thing, and the next one with a new lineup of speakers is on September 27

http://www.ignitechi.org/

I keep thinking lately about what my goals are in life---and how lucky and privileged I am to be able to take this break from the real world and dive in to gigging.

(I also think about how hard I've worked to get here, too, don't worry that I've suddenly turned Yoga/Actressy modest!)

Anyway, it's Monday and it's an interesting week.  I started teaching at Second City and tonight is week 2.  The general assignment for writing level 1 is WRITE more, and write some scene starters.  I am trying to re-learn that lesson myself.

I won't start working my maternity leave gig until next week, unless the lovely lady I am covering goes in to labor.

Which means, I've had 2 months of this gigging life.

In that time, I've ubered and lyted, taught improv, led a creativity/brainstorming session, taught writing, had my first Mind Gym coaching gig, performed my first piece at Paper Machete, wrapped up an improv show, run 2 tris, babysat, worked for a Gluten Free Bar company doing nutrition database work, had one Bumble date, booked new health insurance, nagged my old job for my commission, eaten my way through my refrigerator and cupboard, blown off ww, and spent a lot of time with my dog, family and friends.  I also have slept in a lot, improved my mind NONE and listened to the entire catalog of an amazing podcast "Again with this, 90210."  It's great to bike to!

http://previously.tv/beverly-hills-90210/awt-90210-s04e30/

It's been a pretty great 2 months, truth told.

And this is my first completely free week, aside from teaching tonight.  It's also my birthday on Thursday, so I am rolling with the chilling.

We wish to welcome you to Tech-kins land! (NOT!)

7.7.16
(Flashback to July!)

Yesterday was an exciting day—I went down to 1871 in Chicago’s Merchandise Mart.  1871 is “The largest tech startup” as the membership dude/tour guide mumbled. I almost immediately thought what I could bring---writing, sass, energy and pep to conversations if I was the tour guide.  I was there with my awesome PT, who, like me, was curious about what happened in 1871.

I LOVE the Merchandise Mart---and find each floor endlessly fascinating.  There are a million elevator banks, and each of them are labelled to go to only certain floors.  On the 2 main floors, there’s a killer food court, a ton of showrooms so you can buy a really expensive window shade, or look at mannequins made out of tiles, or get your nails done.  All the trim is beautiful---every elevator bank, every information desk---and best of all, there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts, as well as it’s own El stop.  Sometimes I "run" the stairs--there must be 14 or more banks of stairs and wander in the random showrooms on the 7th floor and see the very latest in outdoor furnitures displayed.  All the displays act like you live on the north shore, and have an old house, so that lines up with the preppy clientele I see walking around in their cardigans and $800 suede driving shoes and monogrammed LV bags.  I hate a monogram but I love this building!

So, on the side, I dream of being an entrepreneur—of working with the brightest minds of our day, and making some sweet cash, maybe having some impact and finding a boyfriend.

Anyway, aside from mumbly mouth tour guide, there was a pair of tech-bros looking for space, and a few other randoms there, too. 

1871 is laid out with a ton of “open” space that feels like a giant, indie coffee shop---concrete floors, signs and posters promoting upcoming 1871 events, tables and chairs populated with funky mini-entrepreneurs wearing Beats by Dre and pecking away at their Mac Power Books.  Only their eyes pop up as we pass, and then they fly back down to their screens.  The hallways here are all curves---I feel like Dorothy walking through munchkinland and asking “um, where the fuck do I go?” and these munchkins are like “figure it out, bitch, I have some coding to do” as we move through the space.    All of these tech-kins pay a monthly membership fee, allowing them 24-hour access to the space, wi-fi, and maybe some free coffee (unclear on that point?).  And, of course, community.  But since everyone had their headphones on, maybe not so much?  I think there are some happy hours and stuff.

As we move on, there are a few stadium-seating larger spaces, and one big auditorium/event space where Mumbly pauses, turns to the tour group and says “Here’s where we host Town Halls and tech-blah-blah-disrupts-centrifuge and have the biggest names in tech in one-on-one conversations. In the last month we’ve had Bill Bloopy-bloo, Kyle Not-Chandler, Eddie new new, and even big name another dude”.  The others in the group nod along like “oh sure, those dudes” and I raise my eyebrows like I am impressed.

We then weave back through the tech-kins, and find some back areas where the “Cohorts” are.  Mumbly informs us “cohorts are a big deal, we recently had over mumble hundred apply for this cohort, and only mummer smaller number got in”  A cohort means you get some extra, focused attention, and that you potential business has passed a few markers of consideration for funding.  Cool. 

Down the hallway are a few break-out areas that look like cubbies from King Library at Miami, where you can have calls.

There are also spots for mentors to have office hours and that’s neat.

Finally, we get to see the classrooms, and “university row” where local Chicago colleges have offices so they can chat with potential entrepreneurs and make connections and stuff.

We left with a sense of “cool, but where do I start” and I haven’t been back since then. 

In my brain, I could go there and take coding classes for fun (I always liked Algebra!), or sign-up for the Start-up institute, which seems like a pretty dramatic commitment, or buy “membership” for something like $300 or more a month, which seems weird to do when I don’t know what I want to do. 

So, we just left.

I think about the kind of work that happens here, and make a mental note to get back here in August,  attend some pitch sessions, etc, after my summer of fun.

oh PICKLE!

My Dog
I have had my dog, Pickle, for 4 years.  I think.  I am pretty sure.  Right?  Anyway, Thursday is her "Pickle-versary".  4 years ago I picked up a lovely, fussy, not-yet-silly Beagle who placed her little tiny chin in my hand, and just about killed me.

To all the parents and other pet-owners and non-pet owners:  I don't DARE compare owning a dog to a human.  I get it. I can leave Pickle for hours, unattended, while she sleeps.  She poops outside in a bag. She doesn't require much in terms of values/teaching morals/the value of helping humanity.

But, she kills me.  This little beagle, with her little soft ears and her fucked-up scarred face.

It's not that she's a sub for a family, or a kid or what-not--but she's just perfect for me.

I love watching her sleep and have puppy dreams, I love watching her ignore me as she hunts some random beagle scent trail, yells at me when I come home too late, and scratches her right ear like she has mites when she's stressed, and I love how she snores like a god-damn hobbit.

I hate when she pees on my ikea carpets, and begs for food if I sit on the couch, or humps me when she wants attention (she loves my right forearm!).

Some day, she'll die and I'll be super-sad.  But, for now, Pickle Juice Eldridge, if it's 3 or 4 years or who knows---be the good beagle you are.

And, just in case you want to adopt a dog:  for sure, check out:

http://www.gotbeagles.org/

These dogs LOVE all humans, all kids, all other pets. I always say---Pickle is too passive for her own good.

Um, what do you do?

I've had a lot of jobs this year.  I hope LinkedIn looky-lous don't think I'm a flake, but I think my job picker was off.

I had a job last year for 5 months--and it was pretty good in a lot of ways, and awful in some other ways.

I needed a ton of education on the product, as I was moving from "Traditional" media to "Digital" media.  Big learning curve.

And, there was some, um, let's say MINOR drama in the Chicago office.  It involved a literal man-hunt for one of the reps who others in the office thought was lying.  So, they decided to try to catch him in his lie and wanted the rest of the office to play along.  When I wouldn't, things went south.

Last summer I was in meeting with VIP clients in Cincinnati.  I secured the meeting, had researched the client, knew their agency partners very well, as well as their brand plans.  But, some boss somewhere decided that a big whig would fly in and present.  So, he came in, having never been to Cincy nor worked on this account (World's largest advertiser), and he completely ignored my direction on what to speak about, etc and just PRESENTED!!!  Here's the feedback we got after his first presentation:  "Um, what exactly do you do?"  My thoughts exactly.

After our second meeting, the client said:  "Listen Becky, you're the one who actually works on this stuff.  You know what to do--make your materials more succinct, precise and specific to our work."  I looked at that lady with eyes that must have screamed GET ME OUT OF HERE!  HELP!  

Our third meeting was margaritas where the big guy in "Agency/Brand relations" congratulated himself on a job well done, and asked why I was quitting.

UNSUBSCRIBE

7.5.16 (Sometimes I post out of order guys!)

OK, if this were a NORMAL day and NORMAL week—I’d be hopping on the el (or in the PriPri, let’s be honest as I drove to work a LOT) and heading downtown.

Instead, I’m in DFW, listening to CNN  (Trump wrote a Tweet Trump, anti-semitism TWEET, etc) and feeling a little frustrated that certain monitors don’t post all flights---does AA own this monitor?

Here are some of my favorite things that happened at my last two jobs:

Feedback from my attempt to learn about a new product: “Tell Becky she asks too many questions in the sales call”. 

Client interaction:  I wrote a client for a meeting, and when he didn’t respond, I wrote him again and then again.  Eventually, he did respond, and he wrote: “UNSUBSCRIBE”.

I literally laughed out loud, told the story to my colleagues, and wrote back to him and said---I will definitely “Unsubscribe” you, but just so you know, I am a HUMAN and not an actual Robot.

I hope it get it!

Meanwhile, back in June...

I’m in day 4 of intense training for a potential gig.  The actual job itself would be AMAZING!  This company is hired to go in, and do 90-minute fast training sessions for corporations.  Topics include Storytelling, Feedback, learning how to have tough conversations, and more.  I really hope I can show my stuff because I think it would be a good good fit.  

(That seems so braggy--but I am doing my best to not waste energy on worrying about being humble in my own mind. You gotta know what you can crush!  For me, it's not paperwork. But it is stuff like this!)

It’s not paid work for the training, rather, it’s a week long certification program.  I bribed them today with cheese and caramel mix popcorn from Mariano’s (Which is cheaper than Garrett’s and WAY better).

We are tucked in to a generic Marriott out by O’Hare---and it’s hilarious as we are in a “salon” in the only unused room available in the conference center.   The current conference is “the Metal alliance” and we are surrounded by dudes in pleated pants.  There are 6 of us in the certification, and the dudes for the metal alliance keep nodding at me, thinking I must be part of the industry. I nod back and say "HI!" because why make this weird?

I stole one of the Metal Alliance conference agendas...here are my favorites of the breakout sessions:

ROOFING COUNCIL (I keep reading that as Roofie! With a dedicated Council of various organizations coming together)

RETROFIT COUNCIL (Like Retro furniture! But probably how to use metal in an existing structure)

METALCON LIAISON COMMITTEE (this committee is working to make METALCON 2016 the best METALCON ever and advance the interests of the metal construction alliance)

LUNCH ON YOUR OWN (Good luck SUCKERS!  Rosemont is not exactly walkable and the parking lot is awful)

ACCESSORIES COUNCIL (Pearls for spring, jewels for the holidays, metals ALWAYS)

IMP COUNCIL (Long live Tyrion!!  I predict he will be the Hand of the King one day)

It makes me think of the start of the short story—“He broke up with me in the back of the Grand Ballroom at the Marriott O’Hare.  I was a Gen x, pretending to be a Gen Y and he was a millennial.

He was the designer, and I was the writer for a metal magazine.  We had hooked up the year before at the BIG CONFERENCE (at the Sheraton Ohare) and had been banging in the server room for the past 11 months.”

I need to go back to studying for my final presentation!