Facing the Stranger

This week I had my first job interview in over twenty-four years.    

It’s a strange thing for someone who’s fairly self-deprecating and relatively sarcastic to have to talk about themselves and give people the impression that they are somewhat mature, responsible and will somehow be an asset to the organization.   I can be that person, of course, but I don’t like to talk about it.  

I have to stop and think a lot before I speak.   My mind doesn’t coordinate as well with my mouth as it does with my typing fingers when communicating (and not always that well with my fingers either).   I have said stupid things way too often, and been burned by my rush to say what I think is on my mind.   I’m sure this comes across as indecisive at times, or rambling,  but I’d rather delay my answer a few moments than say something I shouldn’t say.

When I am asked the standard interview question, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” my initial thought response is, “I didn’t see “fortune teller” on the job description.  Should I go buy some Tarot cards?”  

Fortunately, my first level filter kills that idea.    My second thought response to where I want to be in five years is usually, “Gainfully employed.”  While this is a much more accurate gauge of my true feelings, it’s still not what I know they want to hear.   

Finally, I sputter out what I think will sound professional and attain the right level of enthusiasm, “In five years I would like to be recognized as a productive and valuable member of your organization.”  

In the end, what is said and done during the interview process means very little when it comes to the actual job.    I’ve seen lots of people who have spectacular resumes and give great interviews but fail miserably at performing the duties they were hired for.   I don’t want to be one of those people.  I’d rather lower their expectations and then surprise them.

Appropriately, I guess, the old song by David Bowie has been bouncing around in my head all week…

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the stranger)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the stranger)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time

I’m sure this means different things to different people, but when I “turn and face the stranger” I see the person that I  probably should be if I were more open to change.  

(Of course, I really would like to be a “richer man,” so me and Ziggy Stardust differ on that little nugget.   Besides, he was already rich, so it was easy for him to say that!)

Change is a constant in life, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.   I’m a prehistoric creature of habit.   Routine is my sanity.  

With so much “out of control” in my life, I cling to what is “normal.”   By that, I mean what is “normal” for me.    My “normal” would be strange to anyone else, and vice-versa.   In a world of bombings, global warming, car crashes, plane crashes, animal attacks, random gun violence, and Fox News…I find the comfort of my “normal” reassuring. 

People are always saying, “Get out of your comfort zone!”   They say it like all “comfort zones” are a bad thing.   I disagree.   It all depends on where that zone is located.    If your “comfort zone” is located in a bottle of Jack Daniels, then yeah, it is probably time to pack up and move out.   If your “comfort zone” is located in an unhealthy relationship, a miserable job, or a complete life of gluttonous sloth, then you should definitely, move on.

But there is a positive side to being in a “comfort zone” too.   If your “comfort zone” makes you happy, then you should stay there.   If leaving your “comfort zone” creates a high level of risk to yourself, your loved ones or others, then you might need to reconsider.    There is no shame in staying in a productive, healthy “comfort zone.” 

(I apologize for that meandering tangent.  I no longer feel like talking about “comfort zones.”)

Less than twenty-four hours after my interview, I was offered my new position.   In essence it is very similar to what I’ve been doing for the last 13 years, but with some added responsibilities and opportunities.   It means that I get to stay with the company that I’ve been with for most of my adult life.   It means I get the warm and fuzzy feeling of the familiar (no longer using the “C-zone” word) while also being offered some new challenges.   It’s a good thing.   I hope.

If nothing else, this returns me to a sense of stability, which I haven’t felt for a while.   That story is a page for another day, much like many of the other things that have happened to me and around me in the last couple of years.   Some things I’ll write about and some things I won’t.    Some secrets belong to the stranger and me.

The Far Better Half

One of the most difficult things for me as a father has been to balance what I want for my daughters with what makes them happy.   My primary goal so far has been to keep them safe.   I’m sure they think that if I had my way, they would all be living in a bunker deep in the ground, or in the tallest tower of a far away castle.   In truth, this would be appropriate because they are my Princesses, despite the fact that I am in no way a King.

One of our goals as parents has always been to give our girls a strong self esteem.   We didn’t want them to go looking for their self-worth in a man, because a lot of men prey on young women who crave even the slightest bit of attention.   These men can easily take advantage of that lack of self worth and eventually they take complete control.    This was not a life we wanted for our daughters.

As I look back on my life as a father, I realize that I have done a few things right, but many things wrong.   I was probably too over-protective (although, in my defense, they have been largely injury free!).  I did not set a good example regarding diet and exercise.  I was sarcastic when I should have been sincere.    I was jokey when I should have been honest.

It’s amazing, miraculous even, that they have turned out as wonderful as they have.   They are good kids.   Better people than me.  Better people than most (yeah, I am not very objective on this subject). 

I owe much of this to the Grace of God, who gifted me with them in the first place and then didn’t let me mess them up too much.    They also have a great support system in their extended family, who love and support them unconditionally.    Finally, they have their mother, the best choice I ever made both for them and myself.  

I see Connie in all the good things about my daughters, which fortunately outweigh the faults they got from me.  They are careful, but not paranoid.  They are sarcastic, but caring.   They can joke and play, but know when to be serious.   They like pizza AND salad!

A good marriage, and a successful family, is based on teamwork.    While I find myself usually out in left field, Connie is our most valuable player, and also our Coach, team doctor and our cheering section.   Without her, we wouldn’t know how to play.

I hope my daughters understand that why I love their mother so much is that she doesn’t need me.   That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me, but that she doesn’t need my constant approval to make her happy.   She is her own person, and she has her own interests.  She doesn’t think she’s as awesome as I know she is, but she has a healthy self-esteem.   She stands up for herself when she needs to and she will sacrifice for others without giving all of herself away.  

She is comfortable in a crowd, and can light up a room, but her favorite place is sitting quietly in a field in the mountains.   She has an adventurous heart, tempered by logic not to do something insanely dangerous.   She hikes for the journey, not the destination.

I hope my girls remember that she is never too tired for them.  No matter how late it is or how little sleep she has had, she listens intently to whatever story they think is important enough to share.   As my “Dad Hearing” ability to tune out chatter becomes stronger with age, she hears everything they say and remembers.   She understands more than most of us that nothing is unimportant when it comes to your child.

In case I’ve made her pedestal a bit too high, let me say that she’s not completely perfect.   She doesn’t believe me when I tell her how beautiful she is.    She doesn’t understand that I think she’s one the smartest, most capable people I have ever met (and at my age, I’ve met a lot of people…and a lot of them have been VERY smart and VERY capable).    She doesn’t grasp how proud I am to be her husband and anytime I don’t show it is due to my issues and not hers.

So, as my daughters get older and are reaching crossroads in their lives, I hope they pray for guidance and listen carefully for the answers they should hear and not what they want to hear.   I hope they think about the example set by their Mother.   I hope they appreciate her as much as they should.  

It seems so little to say, but here it is,   "Connie...my wife, my love, the amazing mother of my children...Thank You…"