It is an exciting week in NYC. Fashion Week. Westminster Dog Show. And Brie’s first class to be a therapy dog . Well, we’re both taking the class. We will both learn our names, how to obey commands, how to walk on a leash, heel, and…Heal. If we pass, we will receive an assignment to visit a patient who is receiving treatment in the hospital. (She will be the dog, and I will be the handler. At least to start.) David Frei, that great voice of the Westminster Dog Show, started this program, and it serves renown institutions throughout the country. Brie started to shake at the beginning of class. I thought I would have to take her home. Before long, I was running at the end of her lead. This creature who was transplanted to this concrete island only six months ago was was walking with sass and style. She was my “Best in Show.”
Home Again!
I was “gainfully” employed for awhile. Working for an outsourcing company. Then my job was outsourced to India. My friends think its hysterical! Things are actually pretty different around here. First, I’ve become a mother. No It’s not what you think. I haven’t been having that much fun. I adopted a Yorkshire 
terrier named Brie this past August and I’ve been too busy being trained that I have been able to write. It’s a dog’s life! She came from a very good neighborhood in Connecticut, and is adjusting to being an urban dog. Everyday I play her some rap music. And she got her first taste of good Jewish pot roast. Now she refuses to eat her kibble without kosher chicken. this dog lucked out! Also, Rita’s gotten really skinny. You wouldn’t recognize her and Gucci. Now I’m going to have to hear HER dating stories! And Abby just came back from another trip to Antarctica and looks almost mystically happy. I think she’s going to go off wondering again. So, here I am, living with a canine, about to call unemployment. Again. I think you are now up-to-date.
Professional “Searcher”
I’m back. It’s been a while and I can honestly say nothing much has changed. Unfortunately I still haven’t “found” anything. Except a few unwanted pounds. This is a bad dream. It’s like the U.S. has become this service economy with everyone selling insurance to eachother. I’m still searching. For the job. For the guy. And now… for the dog!
Westminster Dog Show
It’s winter and I feel out of my mind. I call T and start up with my stuff. “I’m going to end up on the street with my really nice wardrobe.” I’m having nightmares at night. I keep having this feeling that people are taking things out my refrigerator.
“That’s a nightmare. Its where you keep your shoes.” I know T was concerned. Let’s meet at the Barking Dog. Right now.”
“I’m on my way” I yelp.
Self-Education
I went to a conference on Twitter and found that I’m truly a “twidiot!” The best part, however, was seeing Martha Stewart in person and hearing her speak about important digital marketing matters. Like shoes…What I learned is that she’s really into them. In fact, she’ll even take a picture of your shoes if she likes them. I was sorry that she didn’t take a picture of my shoes. I should have worn the ones with the bows, or the polka dots. Not black patent flats…I would love to go for dinner at her house. But I would keep her away from my feet!
Signs-January
There is so much snow and ice. I’m sitting at my computter looking at job boards, but I’m thinking about going to Israel. The truth is, I’m afraid to do anything different. I go down to the street, and I see a broken down sign on the corner in front of the garbage. I move closer. It reads “Be your dreams.” I look on the other side. Sprawling across the back of the disgarded sign in proud, thick, black, bold graffitti is, “Be Your Dreams!”
My Personality!–January
I go to Flora’s apartment to get my test results and find out about my personality. Perhaps this test will help me finally understand who I am. I’m anxious. The living room is small but homey. I sit down and look around. I see pictures of her three children when they were teens living in Conneticut. As I sink back into a large puffy pillow, I note the crafts and small paintings she had collected, momentos of family holidays. I pick up some stray shells resting on the wood floor and cradle them in my hand. Flora looks serious, seated in her long caftan and crocheed hat.
“Pinkslip, I have your test results.”
“My personality. Is it serious?”
“Do you ofter feel confused?” she asks thoughtfully.
“I mostly feel confused.”
“Yes. This accounts for it.” she shakes her head soulfully.
“Tell me,” I brace myself.
“PinkSlip, You are an INFP. Introvert. An idealist. Dreamer. People like you account for less than 1% of the population.
“World or U.S.?”
“Not sure.” She sighs heavily. Princess Diana was won. If you get on the wrong track, there’s no way out. Yes, highly sensitive. Moody. So was Audrey Hepburn and Richard Gere. She puts on her reading glasses and ruffles through some papers. Come to think of it, so was Albert Schweitzer.
“Oh, what exactly did he do?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. But he was very giving.” She jumps up from her chair,A Ha! I recommend that you become an actress as a way to ha rness your creativity.”
“I think I already did that. As a child. And how would I earn a living?”
“Babysitting.”
“I don’t like children.”
“Then walk a dog. Listen, how much time do we really have left? You don’t want to have any regrets?”
“I already have regrets. (Thinking about my investment in this session,)
“Oh nonsense. Think about Colonal Sanders . He started Kentucky Fried Chicken when he was 70.
“He was an actor.”
Myers Briggs-January
The counselor invites me to take a bunchof tests–including the Myers Briggs personality test. It is apparently based on a Jungian concept that there are roughly 30 something types of personalities. Actually, I think I’ve dated them all. It’s a battery of questions revealing your “authentic self”–whether ou like to pick up guys at parties or sulk alone in a corner…boss people at work or sit under your desk waiting for the cuts to be over hoping you won’t be noticed…It assesses whether you’re the kind of person who pays 30% interest on your credit cards like me and can’t keep a plant alive, but is dedicated to world peace. Or if you need a list to keep track of your lists.
I recall on question was “Do you enjoy planning in advance, or do what’s fun at the moment?” Well, that was a tough one, Every dayplanner I’ve owned has remained empty despite my franetic activity.
The Beginning Of Enlightenment
I’ve become attached to my blue sofa . What should I do? Weeks have gone by and I’m exhausted. I’ve gone to every event imaginable–Internet Marketing Mondays, Solar Energy Ice Cream Bash, Private Equity Pre-Olympic Drinkathon–and not a single job interview. My apartment is filled with business cards. I don’t even remember who these people are. How can I expect them to remember me? I think I left my self-esteem at one of these events. In the coat room.
The phone rings and it’s Cora Flowers, a career counselor I met at my flurry of events.
“So, PinkSlip, how’s it going?” she asks blithly.
I do not want to have this conversation. (I’m even getting pity from my manicurist. She looks at me and in broken English says, “How sad. At least I’m busy.” Well, I cut back and only had one hand painted.)
“Lousy” I moan. There, I said it.
“Well, where do you want to work?” she asks cheerily. One of my clients networked herself into a co mpany in two days after she was fired.”
Oh, give me a break. “Nowhere, I don’t want to work anywhere. As a matter of fact, I want to be “The Harvard Dog Walker.” Six dogs on a leash. I’ll recite Chaucer to your pooch while they poop!”
“PinkSlip, you need help. Please let me help you. I want you to take the Myers Briggs Personality Test and Strong Inventory of Interests. I won’t take no for an answer. ”
I think, perhaps there is an answer…
Synogogue Job Search Group-No Rugalah
It was one of those freezing nights last weeks where I wanted to just isolate in my overheated apartment. I’ve been staying in alot lately and I’ve been blaming it on the weather. It’s cold…icy…slushy. But the fact is I really don’t want to be around people. I guess this is the opposite of “networking.” So, there’s an event at the synogogue accross the street from where I live at 7:00 and I figure maybe I should go. Perhaps there will be some good tips. I leave what’s become my cave and head for the meeting. I hope there are cookies. Not on the “Poodle Girl Diet.” I make it across the street into the temple which has an awful smell. The meeting room is packed. Two slim, blonde women are heading the discussion who are obviously not part of the congregation. They are perky and animated, pointing to a powerpoint. (Irish Catholic I guess.) They talk about resumes and two minute pitches. Linked-In and FaceBook. All familiar jargon if you’ve been a professional. So where’s the rugalah and the turkey sandwiches. Apparently we don’t get food as we’re the disenfranchised. I notice a pamphlet on Jewish Poverty at the head of the table and I have trouble breathing. I young woman raises her hand and starts talking about her depression. She talks on and on and won’t stop. Out of the edges of my eyes I see old friends and boyfriends in the crowd. We do out best not to acknowledge each other. The program ends. No rugalah. I sneak out in shame and eat a bag of double chocolate Milanos in secret.
Jane Ranzman Writer 