Lipstick on the pig
I used to care. My career consumed me.
I would passionately advocate the right
and wrong way to present markdowns
with a vigor rarely matched. I spent my
days chasing fashion and all the nuances
that made a garment as chic as possible.
While my personal life might suffer, I
connected every single dot in order to
deliver a three hundred and sixty degree
brand experience. Long before any omni
channel, I was channeling every ounce of
my soul to do the right thing. And then...
I simply gave up. Finally I'd had enough.
After years of battles, corporate politics,
maneuvering, manipulation, highs, and
lows, I suddenly realized that no matter
how much I tried, it really didn't matter.
There had to be something more besides
two day sales and private sale previews.
Everything started looking the same and
after thirty years, nothing was new. All
of a sudden it was "been there done that."
I'd scratched every back and yet mine
was itching for something more. And no
no matter how savvy I was, I didn't have
an ounce of innovation left in me. None.
Embracing the mortality of my career
was rather an odd sensation. At first
I wasn't willing to accept it. So I went
through the motions and did my job.
Anybody who truly knew me knew my
mojo was gone. My inner pilot light of
energy had short circuited. However on
the surface I could still strut my stuff
even while underneath an empty void
waited for "next". My apathy frustrated
yet somehow I survived purgatory. For
awhile my holding pattern was enough.
You see, I simply didn't care anymore.
Over the last decade my professional life
has been filled with ups and downs. My
beloved specialty retailer was sold to a
woman who rejected every effort we had
made to make it viable. My venerable
department store was swallowed up by
a chain who craved national pablum not
local differentiation. The savior who all
thought might save retailing revealed that
he was nothing more than an errant egoist
as he hovered on the brink of extinction.
Finally, my last company was sold and
and I was left hanging. Why care?
I simply didn't have it in me for one
more try. Somehow every ounce of
passion for my profession had either
been sold off or restructured. And yet,
there were things that still excited me.
I love to write and truly get no greater
pleasure than sharing my thoughts via
this blog with you. We've restored our
home and with it, my passion for home
design and interior decorating. Could
I be brave enough to exit this rat race
and do the things I love? Rather than
care less, could I actually care more?
A skip and a jump away
Yesterday was my last day in corporate
America. Today is my first day as a free
agent. As I board the plane for Montana
I leave behind a city I love and adore.
Manhattan will always be "home" and
yet I doubt I'll ever live there again. Yes,
many of you question if this urbanite can
survive in the middle of nowhere! I too
cannot help but wonder what is about to
happen. But suddenly, I can't wait to get
out of bed each morning. Suddenly my
mojo is back and better than ever. Now
it's time to fasten your seat belts...