Just a Cliche and a Decade Away from Being the It Girl

I am officially too old to ever again be an "It Girl." This painful realization hit me a couple of weeks ago when I learned of a much younger colleague's designation as the cat's meow, the cream of the crop, and the best thing since sliced bread. Okay, no one used those exact words, but the sentiment was communicated clearly enough.

While I will agree that this colleague is a terrific person and a hard working, competent and mature professional, I am not happy about all the chatter. My reasons for being envious concerned are completely rational:

1. If this individual were to learn that she is so highly regarded, the ego boost could make her very difficult to work with.
2. Those who think this individual is all that and a bag of chips may become blind to her weaknesses and willing to overlook her flaws.
3. For leadership to heap the majority of praise on one employee can have disastrous affects on the self-esteem of others who may feel the need to retaliate.

While, none of this applies to me personally because I don't compete work that closely with this individual, I have become aware that older women like myself are clearly being discriminated against when it comes to being the bees knees. Simply put, It Girl status can only be bestowed upon those under the age of 30. This is evidenced by the fact that business journals publish lists of the "Top Professionals Under Age 30," or "40 to Watch Under Age 40," but you never see anything for "Fantastic in their Fifties" or "Successful in their Sixties." The reality is that, once you turn 41, you're expected to be a performer. There's no special recognition. No talk in the break room about the new superstar. No grumbling about the girl who thinks she's "all that."

This is a hard reality for me to face because in my 20s and 30s, I was an It Girl. I worked hard to make sure I was bringing the very best to whatever position I held so that the bar would forever be set at "Kim level" and my replacements would always have very big shoes to fill. Gave everything 110%, never content with the merely the old college try. Raised my hand for every new job responsibility. Kissed butt ad nauseum. And for what? The same Wawa gift card everyone else received. And more responsibility at the same salary. It Girl status doesn't really pay off in the non-profit sector. Ah, hindsight. The point is that I enjoyed the heady feeling of knowing I was appreciated and recognized, and now I'm being forced to rely on my self-confidence to get me through the day. This is why middle-aged people turn to drinking and prescription drugs. They're much more accessible than self-esteem. 

In retrospect, I should have seen this coming several years ago when I noticed that I was no longer the youngest employee in my department or organization. I remember being truly shocked to discover that not only was Susie Q not older than me, but in fact, she was a good decade younger. Clearly I was am in denial of my advancing age, and this new performance-based "reality" is adding insult to injury.

In trying to decide how to handle this delicate situation, I can think of only a few options:

• Sabotage my colleague's work so her performance is of concern versus congratulations.
• Find ways to highlight my own work in such a way that it overshadows hers.
• Encourage her to find employment elsewhere and then recommend a clearly inferior individual to take her place.
• Find a new job in which I likely am the youngest employee. Maybe the library or the school cafeteria?
• Put on my big girl panties and deal with it.

I welcome your advice, really. I especially look forward to hearing from you if you've personally managed to maintain It Girl status into your 40s or 50s. I probably won't talk to you again, but I'm still eager to know how you did it. 

Not Despicable, but Replaceable Me

When I heard my previous employer had hired someone to replace me, I had mixed feelings. On one hand I was glad they filled the position (especially since authors were starting to contact me on Facebook for help), but on the other hand, this hiring was proof that I am, in fact, replaceable. All I could hope for was that this person was already failing to perform, was completely unlikable, or passed gas during meetings. Apparently none of the above applies to the new Kim new marketing director whom everyone is speaking highly of. Well, goodie for them. I hope they'll be very happy together.

While I confess to having had this terribly immature response, you'll be glad to know I didn't dwell on it for long. I've chosen something else to fret over instead, namely, the superstar I hired to be the new Associate Director of Marketing and Communications. Kelly started last month and without question, she's terrific. She's smart, hard working, inquisitive and pleasant to be around. She has a passion for office supplies and to-do lists. I can tell from the tchotchkes on her desk that her family and boyfriend mean the world to her. She's showing signs of a compatible sense of humor. In other words, I think I hired a younger version of myself. Except that I realized after looking at all the photos on her desk that I don't have a single picture of family or friends on mine.

Aside from the photographic reminder of my shortcomings as a mom/wife/friend, things with Kelly look promising.Though I have to say that there have been a couple times I've found my ego crushed myself slightly hurt by faculty and staff who behave like we've hired the savior. One of the deans actually introduced her as "the future of the College." To which I replied with a not-in-the-least-bit bitter "Whoa! Hello? What about me?" That little episode was followed by a marketing-related meeting in which the director of one of our programs directed absolutely everything in the conversation to Kelly. At one point I blurted out, "I've been working on that and will continue to do so. I mean, Kelly and I will work together on these things." Geez. Talk about insecure. Afterward I immediately felt like a jerk for appearing to be desperate for control and power. I apologized to Kelly and a faculty member in attendance, both whom said they didn't see it as such. In fact, the faculty member said he could see I was being a mother hen in protecting Kelly from all the work that was being dumped on her. Yes, that's it. I was protective. Not petty and insecure. Let's go with that!

I have very little experience being someone's "boss" and I can't say I was looking forward to it when I was informed that I would be hiring someone to work with me. I'm kinda the lone ranger type. Not "kinda." I'm definitely a lone ranger. Tell me what needs to be done and I'll do it. Don't make me be part of team and don't tell me how to do my job and we'll get along just fine. Given this controlling personality of mine, my biggest concern with working with someone was that I wasn't going to be willing to give up any part of what I consider to be "my" job. That I'd want to hold on tight to everything, or at the very least, give very specific direction on how to get the work done. In other words, I foresaw myself as a micro-manager, the very thing I hate in a supervisor.

The good news is that I haven't found myself doing much of that micromanaging or even withholding of work (heck, there's so much of it and so much that's challenging, that I've been more than happy to hand it off). What I didn't expect, however, is that I'd feel threatened, bordering on jealous. During that meeting in which Kelly was the star of the show, and given her glowing introductions and interactions with faculty and staff, I suddenly realized that I had hired someone who could replace me in the not so distant future. My reaction during that meeting wasn't so much about control (and certainly not about mothering), but rather it was a direct reflection of the threat I felt when I realized if they gave her all the work, I would no longer be needed. Once again, in the span of a few weeks, I've been shown to be replaceable. This is does nothing to boost one's ego.

To add insult to injury, last week I had my first official "Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" at work. It started with a security violation citation for leaving the office door open and the lights on with valuable equipment in the room. On Saturday. When I wasn't here. Four people in my office and I'm the only one with a citation. I hope this doesn't go down on my permanent record (insert "Kiss Off" Violent Femmes music here). The week only improved when I discovered a mailing piece I sent out was half the size I thought it would be (I'd only seen the computer file), AND that there was a major mistake in the title I bestowed upon the professor whom the postcard was for. Totally not my fault, but guilty by association. Then there was the insider information I received that clued me in to another rouge department pursuing a printed publication without me. And did I mention the number of occasions on which I've said too much about certain issues (so unlike me)? Have I told you about the tension that's been building in my office space because no one has the quiet place they need to accomplish their work? The honeymoon is definitely over, but the good news is I've gotten that officially crappy day out of the way and I'm still employed.

Yes, getting older sucks. Learning you're replaceable is a bummer. Knowing someone you hired will eventually be doing your job is threatening. Envying your kids for the opportunities they have that have officially passed you by stinks, too. But on the flip side, getting older means I'm closer to living the dream. Hiring someone amazing means I have a colleague who doesn't frustrate, disappoint or require me to watch over her. And envying my kids means they have a life worth envying, and what more could a parent ask?

Wow. That was so weird. Me looking at the positive side of things. I better stop here before I revert back to my old self.

The Stages of Grief: Career Edition

As I reported two posts ago, I finally quit complaining about my life and its lack of direction and I made a big move. I took a new job. My immediate reaction to Villanova University's offer was great excitement. Seconds after that my stomach dropped to my knees and I whispered "Dear God, what have I done?" Naturally I was nervous at the thought of starting something new, but bigger than that was my fear of losing what I had.

American Baptist Home Mission Societies/Judson Press is like the Hotel California (albeit without the wine):

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Seriously, no one ever leaves this place. Twenty-plus years of employment is perfectly normal. Thirty isn't unheard of. Why should anyone quit when 99% of your coworkers and supervisors are really good people? And it's family-friendly with the flexibility a mom like me needs? And the work is literally about changing lives? And did I mention they have a retirement benefit that's to die for? Actually, it's to live for.

Even before telling my HR director and my boss that I was leaving, I entered the Four Stages of Grief (Career Edition).

DENIAL:
No, this isn't really happening. If I just don't tell anyone, then it won't be real. I'll conduct business as usual. Attend and contribute in meetings. I'll even respond to those emails and phone calls I've been avoiding. Yes, it will all be fine. (Note: Denial works well until your soon-to-be new employer outs you to your current employer by calling to verify your employment there. Can you say "awkward?")

DEPRESSION:
Yikes, depression is what got me into this mess in the first place. Now I feel worse. How can I feel worse? I got what I wanted. I should be thrilled. Why aren't I over the moon? People congratulate me and note how excited I must be and I have to conjur up my fake happy face to agree with them. Of course, most of the time I just break down and confess that I'm still waiting for the excitement to hit. Sometimes I just break down, period. Friends must think I'm insane to be so upset. This makes no sense whatsoever. Why can't I just be normal? (As if I haven't been asking myself that question for the last 35 years).

ACCEPTANCE:
It's okay. This will be good for me. A chance to grow personally and professionally. I'll make new friends. And it's not like I won't see my Judson Press friends. We'll keep in touch. And I can always stalk them keep tabs on criticize my replacement stay familiar with their projects via my their JP blog and my their JP Facebook page and my their JP e-newsletters.

While not officially recognized as a stage of grief by the American Psychological Association, there's a little something extra I experience during times of major transition. I like to call it:

ILLUSIONS OF IRREPLACEABILITY
Symptons include:

• Secretly hoping that those you've left behind are absolutely miserable without you
• Accepting that this other person/organization is no longer part of your life, but not wanting anyone to replace you
• Fantasizing that your replacement fails miserably in any attempt to fill your shoes
• Praying you will be remembered as the best girlfriend student church usher pancake maker marketing director ever 

I am officially no longer an employee of the American Baptist Home Mission Societies and Judson Press. I shed a great many tears on my last day in the office, but I have reached the point of acceptance and figure I'm well on my way to visions of irreplaceability. In less than 36 hours I will find myself on Villanova's campus, ready to start the next stage of my life and career. Wish me luck.