Next month I’ll turn 54. I’m sliding into my mid-fifties, not as good as early 50’s, but still better then late fifties (and of course, way better than dead). It’s an odd time for many of us. Having acquired a world of experience, it sometimes feels as though the world has already written us off. This is most apparent to anyone who’s looked for a job after the age of 45.
After the company I worked at for eight years closed their New York office, I decided to take some time off to spend with my then 6 year old daughter and work on some creative projects, including forming an all mom standup comedy group called the Full Metal Mamas. My husband had a radio show and worked odd hours, it seemed silly to spend so much money on a nanny and frankly, we had the luxury of being able to live on my husband’s salary. I foolishly thought that I would be able to restart my career as an Executive Assistant when I was ready.
After a couple of years, I decided to dip my toe back in the job hunting waters. I sent my resume and immediately got an appointment with a downtown employment agency. The woman who interviewed me must have thought I was younger when she read the resume (although I did have my graduation dates listed) because after asking me just a few questions, she looked at me with disgust and said, “What am I going to do with you?” She spoke to me like I was a lost dog who had been following her around all day.
I was shocked! First of all, she was a dumpy broad in synthetic stretch pants with dirty hair. And she wasn’t any spring chicken either. Where did she get off being so rude! So much for my vast experience, I ran out of there with my middle-aged tail between my legs. But I wasn’t ready to give up.
A former boss recommended me to another employment agency. This time I was interviewed by a sweet, young woman who really seemed to value what I had to offer. She introduced me to a couple of other agents who appeared to be glad to meet me and promised to let me know if they had jobs that might be right for me. Not long after, I started getting phone calls from the agency telling me about job openings and asking if I’d like to be submitted. I cheerfully chirped “Yes, please!” After about seven or eight calls, not one of the prospective employers asked for an interview, not one!!! I didn’t follow up with the agency after that because I was so embarrassed. I really hadn’t obsessed about my age before, but I suppose I should have. I was so freaked out I didn’t even try to look for a job for another year.
A year later opportunities were still scarce, and this was before the banks crashed and burned. It was clear that the only person who was going to give me a job was someone who knew me before my age turned me into job interview napalm. I got the word out to some of my former bosses and one came through, and she came through like the cavalry. Just 4 weeks after I started working in her office (although not for her); my husband lost his radio show. She has a name, but I like to call her The Reason My Family Eats.
Although radio doesn’t require heavy lifting, my husband also ran onto age discrimination while trying to get another radio gig. He tried networking but radio changes so fast, some of his old bosses had already moved onto different aspects of radio other than programming. Like television, radio programmers try to attract listeners with lots of cash to spend on their sponsors’ products. They often want their radio hosts to reflect that demographic, not the portion of the population they see as retiring within the next 15 years.
Without many radio stations looking for hosts, and even fewer looking for hosts that aren’t staunch conservatives, we realized that it might be time for my husband to make a change. He decided on real estate. Right after he earned his real estate license he got a job with a large real estate agency in Manhattan. He worked at that agency for about a year and now he’s about to move up to a higher end agency. I’ve very proud of him and he’s excited to embark on the next step of his new career.
Has it been easy? Hell no! Tears were shed and savings dipped into. But we’re still here and hopeful about the future. Little by little I’m allowing myself to think about the possibility of having enough income to go out and have some fun, maybe even take a vacation that doesn’t entail driving our 14 year old Kia for a few hours and crashing at a relative’s home. There’s more life to be lived and more fun to be had!
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
My Furry Valentine
My Furry Valentine by Barbara Singer
I had a great Valentine’s Day this year. My husband and I walked to a romantic restaurant in SoHo and had a lovely dinner followed by some serious cuddling on my couch. Of course, my husband was in the bedroom. I was curled up with my cat Snow. I would like to make it clear that her lame name is not my fault. She’s a white kitty that I rescued from a cage by the cash registers at the Petco in Kips Bay. She was already named Snow, and although I could have re-named her, it seemed insulting to just disregard her former life and pretend she didn’t exist until she entered my apartment.
When I first saw her in the cage at the pet store she had a wandering eye, short fur, and what appeared to be a pretty bad attitude. Still, I was intrigued. It was a crowded Saturday; lots of folks were in front of the cages in what amounts to a casting session for the part of beloved pet. Snow began to have a cat version of a nervous breakdown. She was freaking out; her wandering eye looking to her left while the rest of her looked forward at the loud, fawning throng of well meaning cat lovers. She looked like she could have used a valium. Still, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
I went back to the pet store during the week when I knew it wouldn’t be as busy, there were less people in the store and Snow was much calmer. She even rubbed up against my fingers when I stuck them inside her cage. I went home and proceeded to talk my husband into adopting another cat. Now this was not easy. My husband had already unwillingly taken custody of a neurotic tabby from his previous marriage. I made the case that I had a cat when he met me and therefore my cat loving tendencies had already been disclosed. We had lost both kitties to old age over the past couple of years and I was ready to take home another furry bundle of joy. My husband reluctantly gave in, but not without much bitching that continued for the next few years.
According to the woman who was fostering her, Snow had a back story worthy of a Lifetime movie. Before she did time in the Petco cage, she was taken from a crazy homeless person who was living on the street in Harlem. I was told that he was none too happy to have his pet taken away. They rescued Snow at 6AM. (Apparently, covert cat-napping takes place very early in the morning.) After they put her in the car and started to drive away, this homeless guy ran after them, screaming and chasing the car down the street. They also said that while she lived on the street she gave birth to kittens that were eaten by a pit-bull. She was pregnant again when they saved her. If Dr. Phil had a Dr. Phil House for troubled cats she would have been the first resident.
Once the kittens were old enough, her foster mother brought Snow and her litter to Petco so they could all be adopted. Of course, the cute little kittens went right away. Snow languished in that cage for 3 months, hence, the weird eye and the bad attitude. Still something about her just made me decide that she belonged with me and my family (it may have been the bad attitude).
As I mentioned before, our cats had both passed away and we hadn’t had a pet for a while. I was really happy to bring another furry critter home to the family. I expected Snow to have a period of adjustment, and I thought it might be a while, given the horrible things she had been through. I thought she’d probably hide under the bed for a few days, only coming out to eat. Surprisingly, she hid for about 20 minutes, then walked into the living room and looked at me as if to say, “Well, what do we do now?” Even more surprising, within a couple of days, she was curling up on my lap! I’ve had a lot of cats over the years, but few were that comfortable with jumping up and plopping right down on top of me. It got even better, it turns out Snow must have some kind of pedigree in her past, her fur grew! She has beautiful, long, soft, fluffy, white fur; I’m a sucker for long-haired cats. They’re beautiful; it almost makes up for the buckets of fur that I brush off of every surface in my house.
Up until now, I had cats that doled out affection sparingly. I always had cats that would cuddle up next to me, my cat Baby liked to “hold hands,” (I would hold her paw or she would put her paw on top of my hand). But until Snow, I never had a cat that loved to be snuggled and kissed! Usually if you hug a cat, you can feel their their heartbeat starting to race after a few seconds, then they squirm out of your arms and run away. Snow’s heartbeat actually seems to slow down when you hug her, and she even purrs sighs of contentment! She’ll also let me kiss her until I can’t kiss her anymore, literally. She even won over my husband, Mister “no more pets ever again!“
I’m so glad she’s affectionate, because she doesn’t do anything else. Her time in the cage made her lethargic and as soon as we got her home she started to gain weight, a lot of weight! We were warned that this would probably happen. I’m used to having cats that self-regulate their food intake. Snow just couldn’t get enough of that sweet kibble stuff. The first day we had her she dove head first into her bowl and didn’t come back up until that bowl was empty, and then she cried for more. Apparently, kitties eat their feelings too. We brought her to the vet who looked at us like we were horrible people that didn’t love their cat enough to stop her from binge eating. At least she wasn’t sticking her paw down her throat, she’s a full figured feline and she likes it that way!
As much as everyone loves a fat cat, we did carefully monitor how much food we were giving her. An action met with palpable disdain on her part. She did take off some pounds, finally, she could reach around to groom herself and not roll away. I still would like her to lose some more weight. The veterinarian told me to that she should exercise, easier said than done. Have you ever tried to convince a cat to exercise? If she joins a gym she’ll never go! I’ve tried everything, laser pointers (she just stares at them), fuzzy toy mouse on a string (I get more of a workout jumping up and down and swinging it around, trying to make it look like real prey), I even tried catnip, but she just gets stoned and that makes her hungry (God, I miss college).
Despite her chubby figure and lack of motivation (who can’t relate to that?), we love Snow. She’s a very sweet cat who makes our home just a little warmer, a little cozier, and a lot furrier!
I had a great Valentine’s Day this year. My husband and I walked to a romantic restaurant in SoHo and had a lovely dinner followed by some serious cuddling on my couch. Of course, my husband was in the bedroom. I was curled up with my cat Snow. I would like to make it clear that her lame name is not my fault. She’s a white kitty that I rescued from a cage by the cash registers at the Petco in Kips Bay. She was already named Snow, and although I could have re-named her, it seemed insulting to just disregard her former life and pretend she didn’t exist until she entered my apartment.
When I first saw her in the cage at the pet store she had a wandering eye, short fur, and what appeared to be a pretty bad attitude. Still, I was intrigued. It was a crowded Saturday; lots of folks were in front of the cages in what amounts to a casting session for the part of beloved pet. Snow began to have a cat version of a nervous breakdown. She was freaking out; her wandering eye looking to her left while the rest of her looked forward at the loud, fawning throng of well meaning cat lovers. She looked like she could have used a valium. Still, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
I went back to the pet store during the week when I knew it wouldn’t be as busy, there were less people in the store and Snow was much calmer. She even rubbed up against my fingers when I stuck them inside her cage. I went home and proceeded to talk my husband into adopting another cat. Now this was not easy. My husband had already unwillingly taken custody of a neurotic tabby from his previous marriage. I made the case that I had a cat when he met me and therefore my cat loving tendencies had already been disclosed. We had lost both kitties to old age over the past couple of years and I was ready to take home another furry bundle of joy. My husband reluctantly gave in, but not without much bitching that continued for the next few years.
According to the woman who was fostering her, Snow had a back story worthy of a Lifetime movie. Before she did time in the Petco cage, she was taken from a crazy homeless person who was living on the street in Harlem. I was told that he was none too happy to have his pet taken away. They rescued Snow at 6AM. (Apparently, covert cat-napping takes place very early in the morning.) After they put her in the car and started to drive away, this homeless guy ran after them, screaming and chasing the car down the street. They also said that while she lived on the street she gave birth to kittens that were eaten by a pit-bull. She was pregnant again when they saved her. If Dr. Phil had a Dr. Phil House for troubled cats she would have been the first resident.
Once the kittens were old enough, her foster mother brought Snow and her litter to Petco so they could all be adopted. Of course, the cute little kittens went right away. Snow languished in that cage for 3 months, hence, the weird eye and the bad attitude. Still something about her just made me decide that she belonged with me and my family (it may have been the bad attitude).
As I mentioned before, our cats had both passed away and we hadn’t had a pet for a while. I was really happy to bring another furry critter home to the family. I expected Snow to have a period of adjustment, and I thought it might be a while, given the horrible things she had been through. I thought she’d probably hide under the bed for a few days, only coming out to eat. Surprisingly, she hid for about 20 minutes, then walked into the living room and looked at me as if to say, “Well, what do we do now?” Even more surprising, within a couple of days, she was curling up on my lap! I’ve had a lot of cats over the years, but few were that comfortable with jumping up and plopping right down on top of me. It got even better, it turns out Snow must have some kind of pedigree in her past, her fur grew! She has beautiful, long, soft, fluffy, white fur; I’m a sucker for long-haired cats. They’re beautiful; it almost makes up for the buckets of fur that I brush off of every surface in my house.
Up until now, I had cats that doled out affection sparingly. I always had cats that would cuddle up next to me, my cat Baby liked to “hold hands,” (I would hold her paw or she would put her paw on top of my hand). But until Snow, I never had a cat that loved to be snuggled and kissed! Usually if you hug a cat, you can feel their their heartbeat starting to race after a few seconds, then they squirm out of your arms and run away. Snow’s heartbeat actually seems to slow down when you hug her, and she even purrs sighs of contentment! She’ll also let me kiss her until I can’t kiss her anymore, literally. She even won over my husband, Mister “no more pets ever again!“
I’m so glad she’s affectionate, because she doesn’t do anything else. Her time in the cage made her lethargic and as soon as we got her home she started to gain weight, a lot of weight! We were warned that this would probably happen. I’m used to having cats that self-regulate their food intake. Snow just couldn’t get enough of that sweet kibble stuff. The first day we had her she dove head first into her bowl and didn’t come back up until that bowl was empty, and then she cried for more. Apparently, kitties eat their feelings too. We brought her to the vet who looked at us like we were horrible people that didn’t love their cat enough to stop her from binge eating. At least she wasn’t sticking her paw down her throat, she’s a full figured feline and she likes it that way!
As much as everyone loves a fat cat, we did carefully monitor how much food we were giving her. An action met with palpable disdain on her part. She did take off some pounds, finally, she could reach around to groom herself and not roll away. I still would like her to lose some more weight. The veterinarian told me to that she should exercise, easier said than done. Have you ever tried to convince a cat to exercise? If she joins a gym she’ll never go! I’ve tried everything, laser pointers (she just stares at them), fuzzy toy mouse on a string (I get more of a workout jumping up and down and swinging it around, trying to make it look like real prey), I even tried catnip, but she just gets stoned and that makes her hungry (God, I miss college).
Despite her chubby figure and lack of motivation (who can’t relate to that?), we love Snow. She’s a very sweet cat who makes our home just a little warmer, a little cozier, and a lot furrier!
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