11.29.06 |
Social Currency
As noted in the post “Someone Give Me a Job,” I am between careers. If I were the résumé-padding sort, I might argue that I am working as a “consultant.” Since I’m not, I’ll claim a recent work history of admin support temp work and contractual employment ranging from data entry to web design. These circumstances often lead to interesting small talk scenarios, as most conversations veer quickly toward the money question: what do you do? I’ve found that an honest response raises eyebrows among those who think a well-established, high-powered career defines one’s self worth. Two years ago I had a solid foundation in the social service & social justice field. I realized this was driving me absolutely batty, and decided to get out. What was the problem? Well, my former job at a rape crisis center serves as an excellent example of How To Go From Mostly Sane To Totally Not In No Time At All. I was responsible for two 24-hour sexual assault crisis services; planning and conducting biannual 50-hour volunteer trainings; volunteer supervision; and reams of paperwork covering every minute detail of the job. When I took the position, the program was in shambles after a series of major agency upheavals, and there were very few volunteers. Nonetheless, the services had to be covered 24 hours a day, no matter what. I ended up taking enough shifts that I was on call an average of 84 hours a week, in addition to my regular work schedule. I loved that job, but it took over my life. This is represented symbolically in my answer to the “Where were you when” question of this era, i.e. 9/11: I was picking up the Hotline pager from a volunteer, and she told me about the Trade Center attacks. In a more concrete sense, I vividly recall what I came to identify as “ghost pager syndrome.” This is the feeling that you must be on call, because you’re always on call, when in fact you are not. The most memorable of these experiences came when I was on vacation, on a plane to Berlin, clearly incapable of making it to either of the local hospitals in under half an hour, and sat bolt upright in a panic to loudly exclaim “Oh my God, where’s the pager?” Realistically, I might still be doing this work if not for the fact that larger problems in that particular agency exacerbated the stress of an already intense work environment. Regardless, that position sucked the life out of me to the point that, three years later, I am only now beginning to recover. On the other hand - would I do it again? Yes. The job left me traumatized, but it also taught me lessons valuable enough to make up for the scars tenfold. I learned more about sociology working in that field than I did in the fours years I spent getting a Sociology degree, and I now have a clue as to how to respond to a person in crisis. I also found that human beings are capable of healing from atrocities that would give pause to a combat soldier. I can honestly say that I became an adult in those two years. A telling perk to this job, even years later, is that it highlights people who judge others solely based on external measures of prestige. Lately, when pressed as to what I “do,” I toss out a quick soundbite about taking classes, exploring new career options, blah blah blah. The response - accompanied by a air of judgment and barely feigned interest - is “what were you doing before?” As soon as I mention social service work, particularly the rape crisis position, a palpable change occurs. Suddenly, the person who was slowly inching away is now animated and curious as to how I managed to keep it together under so much stress, encouraging me to take a long, well-deserved sabbatical, and wondering whether I’m on the short list for canonization (posthumous, of course). I guess I picked the correct wrong career path. 2 Responses So FarSay your words |
Grimes said,
November 29, 2006 @ 8:58 pm
As a sociological experiment, what if instead of “social service work” you said “wet nurse”?
ruxandra said,
November 30, 2006 @ 3:16 pm
yeah, i didn’t have anywhere near the same level of responsibility or dedication to taking shifts at rcs, but i still think i hear the beeper sometimes. seriously, just a couple of weeks ago i heard a noise that sounded like it, and i was like “oh, god, i need to get to a phone!”…