As I caught my breath after my second husband Jim said he didn’t want to be married anymore, I had to step back and reassess my life path while my heart began healing.
My support system was strong and held me up. I attended daily AA meetings, weekly therapy sessions and engaged in multiple phone calls with close friends and family.
To alleviate my economic insecurity as an unemployed single mother, I signed up with Manpower, a temporary employment agency. I took typing and adding machine tests—-I was much better at typing— and was busy with assignments every day.
Reservationist
I worked in the elite reservations department of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Our offices were located behind the reservations desk on the ground floor of the hotel. I learned to say “my pleasure” rather than “you’re welcome” at the end of transaction when I was thanked. Each morning, our team gathered to review the upcoming day and discover what the “service value of the day” was. We were tasked to learn the service values by heart and, when approached by management and asked about it, recite the service value of that particular day. The service values:
I enjoyed the irony of being responsible for the “unexpressed wishes and needs” of our guests.
Luckily, I’d stayed at the Ritz-Carlton on Amelia Island FL when I went to a conference while working my previous job at Reproductive Health Services, so I knew the drill and recognized the lingo.
I took calls from princes in foreign countries for reservations. There was a block of rooms set aside for the Washington University graduation and I insured the people calling for reservations were on the list provided by the University. I answered all calls and addressed concerns of guests who wanted to re-arrange their reservation, add additional rooms or request a special amenity like champagne or flowers.
While on breaks, I took in the glory of the hotel and even glimpsed Rod Stewart and his family shopping in the gift shop. I brought my lunch and found a corner of the lobby to tuck into for my thirty minute break.
Administrative Assistant
I had an assignment as an administrative assistant at a tech firm. I was asked to send an email. Oops, I didn’t know what an email was. Web-mail clients could first communicate with each other on Outlook.com in 1994 and this firm was hooked up. I learned on the fly and was soon sending emails left and right. I reconciled their accounts for the month, a slow process since my adding machine skills weren’t very strong. I interviewed candidates on the telephone for positions in the firm and made recommendations for second interviews. This was a task I excelled at since most of the tech bros in the firm didn’t enjoy speaking to people on the phone to assess their skills. The person I was substituting for was due back after a couple of weeks and the owners asked me to stay on permanently. I declined their offer and turned her computer back over to her when she returned.
Factory Worker
I liked taking longer assignments and met up with other Manpower temporary employees early in the mornings for a couple of weeks at a factory that packaged pharmaceutical products. It was difficult to work in a very loud factory atmosphere, but as soon as I learned my daily assignment, I got into the swing of things. I often thought of Lucille Ball in the candy factory as I did my work.
I was put on three different machines, so I didn’t get bored with a repetitive job for the weeks I was assigned to the factory. I wasn’t mad when another assignment came up and I could say good-bye to standing on a concrete floor for eight hours a day with only two fifteen minute breaks in addition to a half-hour lunch. I walked away with greater respect for the factory workers all around the world who insure we get our products packaged properly. I still think of that time when I pop my medication out of pre-packaged bubble wrap.
Receptionist
My next assignment was as a receptionist at an upscale Real Estate Company. My horseshoe shaped desk was in the center of a luxurious entry space. Each broker and agent had their own mail slot where I placed the many messages I took for them when they were out. The phone system was a huge set of push buttons corresponding to the multiple offices in the building. I’d take a call, put it on hold, call back to the agent who would either accept the call or ask me to take a message, get back on the phone and complete the interaction. I can’t remember a time when there weren’t at least five lines ringing at the same time. I’d answer them on the first ring, ask the party to hold, go down the line with the other calls putting them on hold, and then get back to the first in line. Whew. I went through several spiral telephone message books a week. And yes, I lost a few calls. I had to bite my tongue when tempted to use Lily Tomlin’s character, Ernestine the Telephone Operator’s, snarky and sarcastic humor. “One ringy dingy. Two ringy dingies. Oh, a gracious” “The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.” “We don’t care. We don’t have to. We’re the phone company.”
In addition, as the agents and brokers returned to the office, they would stop at my desk and ask for their messages. Luckily, I learned their names and faces fairly quickly and knew when they were expecting important calls. Most of them were grateful for my attention to the details of their work. I recalled my summer jobs while in college working in my future father-in-law’s real estate firm making cold calls for listings. I’d perfected the tone necessary for such transactions, learned the terms of the trade and called upon my training in this temporary position.
Unfortunately, however, the president of the firm had a name that I mispronounced several times and I was reprimanded for my error. When I wanted to take a quick potty break, I’d ask my supervisor to cover the phones and she’d step into my area. I did have a half-hour lunch break and I took advantage of the lovely landscaping by walking around in the fresh, if humid, St. Louis air, avoiding the pond geese and their droppings. I also escorted the applicants for the receptionist position into my supervisor’s office. I noticed that the ones she called back for subsequent interviews didn’t look like me. She was hiring for the Barbie look to greet guests.
Legal Administrative Assistant
My lawyer cousin Celia hosted me at her home in Silver City NM for the month between our family reunion and when my new apartment would be ready in St. Louis. Her home was a respite in the storm and I was grateful for the work she sent my way. Her husband volunteered with the Democratic Party in Silver City and I helped organize his boxes of information. I was a witness to signed legal documents when needed. I typed up legal briefs. I generally helped out wherever I could in her Law Offices and tried to stay out from underfoot.
This was a period of turmoil for me as I worked to keep my family fed, sold my condo, divorced my second husband and prepared to enter Eden Seminary in pursuit of the Masters of Divinity degree required of the Unitarian Universalist Association.
My calling was to ministry and I’d been accepted to a United Church of Christ seminary in south St. Louis MO whose doors were open to UUA students. My application made it clear that I was a certified leader with the American Ethical Union and a religious humanist. I’d borrowed money and been granted a scholarship and work study grant. I had a clear path ahead. I would stay in Missouri with my children.
My former UU minister, Rev. Angela Herrera Koren, wrote a prayer for clergy as they embark on a call to service, and this is the kind of power I drew upon during that “in-between” time of my life:
May the high aspirations and deep calling that led you into this work give you courage.
May your integrity and authenticity open the doors to healing and wholeness for others.
May self-love and self-compassion guide you in tending all the parts of yourself and listening to your innermost needs.
May you be whole.
As my life’s path came back into focus, I thought of Parker Palmer’s words about vocation:
Vocation at its deepest level is not, “Oh, boy, do I want to go to this strange place where I have to learn a new way to live and where no one, including me, understands what I’m doing.” Vocation at its deepest level is, “This is something I can’t not do, for reasons I’m unable to explain to anyone else and don’t fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling.”
I was ready.
Enjoyed reading this tapestry of your working life! How come you can act in such a practical way? 😅