I'm not usually one to watch motivational speakers -- although I once went to see one that everyone in my real-estate firm was going crazy over. I wasn't exactly drowning in business, and the admission was paid for by a mortgage company, so I hopped into my Honda and drove to The Land of The Beige Cliche.
I registered at the table outside the ballroom of the chain hotel outside Chicago, got my name tag, ditto my coffee and danish, and sat. "I've Got The Power" began to blare from the speakers, and a charismatic Southside guy leapt onto the stage, told His Amazing Story, and yes, he was a great speaker, his story was inspiring, but all the time I kept flashing to the movie "Magnolia," and imagining the speaker stopping mid-story to jump to the front of the stage and command us to worship the cock.
So I am deeply disappointed, when I flip to the public TV channel hoping to hear a British accent and moody music, to instead hear the distinctive, generically enthusiastic cadence of a motivational speaker. I flip past them after about five seconds of transparent platitudes and rah-rah emotionalism, all of which leaves me cold.
Suze Ormond has a power over me that I can't explain. I am pulled into her orbit like a geosynchronous satellite, and I float there, beeping happily, as I am swept along in the current of her gravitational pull. I love to watch her. I love the way she uses language. I love her no-BS style. I love that she actually gives practical advice. I love that she can be inspirational without being sentimental, I love her intelligence. She speaks to me, she ignites me. I watch Suze and I pick up pens and make lists full of asterisks and underlines, and I research CPA programs so that I can be a powerful woman of wealth.
Her latest program is "Women and Wealth," and it addresses the tendency of women to undervalue themselves and be afriad of managing money. This was a helpful boost. I am at the next stage in my journey, where I am ready to have A Job that makes decent money. I figure that while I'm figuring out what I want to do with myself I might as well be able to pay my bills, take classes, and eat out. In other words, I'm ready to commit to a job. Ironically, it's been the recognition that I can actually look at a job as A JOB, and not something laden with deep meaning, that has allowed me to be ready to commit to one. Still, it has to be a job I'll not hate.
My recruiter and I are having lunch on Monday to discuss an upcoming job at a local academic organization. I think she's feeling bad, because she became irritated when I said no to yet another Hell Job description (I love job descriptions where every other word is "spearhead" or "develop," where the responsibilites include everything from facilities management to buying snacks to doing all the admin and HR functions, and oh yes, supporting four managers, because although we expect underpaid admins to be proficient in MS Office, we don't expect people who make huge money to be able to master an Outlook calendar or an internet travel transaction.)
I also mentioned that a friend used to work for that company and did she know it was going down the tubes, so no matter what juicy salary she dangled I'd likely as not never see it, and I think she was frustrated, and let some of that show, and I was fine with that. And now I'm getting a nice lunch and talking about another job. Tonight Suze reminded me that I AM NOT ON SALE. I will not undervalue my skills or my work or my intelligence.
Today my boss brought me a printout of flights he had gotten off the net. They were the exact flights he wanted. He printed them out and walked them to my desk so that I could email the in-house travel agent with the information.
I couldn't make this stuff up.