Back when I worked in a windowless cubicle, I dreamed of being my own boss — no anxiety over running late, no coworkers eating rank food and no shoddy office coffee. To me, a home office was a glistening oasis just out of reach.
Now here I am a year into “working remotely” and it’s poo-poo. I’d snort office Folgers during a dull meeting just to score one annoying coworker. Here are the biggest myths and misconceptions about being a home office drone from someone who knows:
MYTH: More time to hang with friends for lunch, coffee or your general frackin’ around.
FACT: You idiot. Your friends all have real jobs with bosses and things. Even if you did have plans with a bona fide human, you’d behave like a blubbering idiot due to your rapidly-deteriorating social skills. Read more…
My relationship with Anthropologie is love-hate. I love the company’s handpicked, one-of-a-kind eclectic look. I hate the fact that my loving this stuff only underscores the fact that I am in no way unique and that I have been corporate-brainwashed just like the rest of you ladies who just can’t get enough pencil skirts, ruffled tops and bird motifs. Of course I can’t afford to shop there until something goes on sale — at which point all its “whimsical charm” has worn off and the item somehow returns to looking like the junk it was modeled after.
After my latest visit, however, I think my love-hate has officially turned to hate-hate when I left even more offended than the time I saw an Ikea sticker on an item involved in a window display (proving that even Anthropologie is not stupid enough to shop at Anthropologie). There, next to the register, was a sign announcing that the retailer is currently hiring interns. Keep reading »
I have been working in the tech start-up and digital advertising agency worlds for the past six years. These two worlds overlap in a few places—namely social media and the uncertainty of being able to pay their staff in six months. But there is another area where I have seen a commonality so real it has grown from a stereotype to an expectation: the notion that working, all the time—as in 24 hours a day, Christmas Eve and at your kid’s dance recital—is not only normal, but encouraged. Keep reading »
I am going to smack the next idiot who tells me that raising her children full time — by which she really means going to Jivamukti classes and pedicure appointments while the nanny babysits — is her feminist choice.
This is how writer Elizabeth Wurtzel begins a piece on TheAtlantic.com entitled titled “1 Percent Wives Are Helping To Kill Feminism And Make The War On Women Possible.”
You know, subtle.
And it goes downhill from there. Keep reading »
When Maeghan Smulders, a 24-year-old from Calgary, graduated from college last June, she had 29 job offers (yep, you read that right: twenty-nine). Did she choose the best one and start working her way up the corporate ladder? Of course not! She was convinced she could find something better, so she launched a “speed interning” campaign, working for free at 10 companies over the span of 112 days. “I really wanted to find an environment that I could really grow in,” she says, and wow, did she find it: after sorting through 18 more job offers (one from each company she interned at, and eight from companies who saw her story on the news), she took a job with Beyond The Rack, a fashion startup based in Montreal that created a new position just for her. “I really hope that this journey inspires other students to not limit themselves upon graduating,” says Smulders. “Be persistent and really search for what you want to do.” As much as I love her message, the internship blitz isn’t a realistic option for all the college students out there who are working multiple (paid) jobs and barely making it. What do you think of Smulders’ job hunting strategy? [The Star]
Modern American ladies are faced with a new phenomenon that has a real chuckle-worthy title coined by the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology: “choosing briefcase over baby.” Us girls are receiving 57 percent of all Bachelor’s degrees and 60 percent of all Masters’ degrees and we’re apparently rewarded for our efforts with a scarcity of “suitable” men to marry. When the ratio of degree-holding women to men drastically changes, women delay baby-making and instead go paper-chasing. Keep reading »
I’m fairly certain that Rush Limbaugh could take Goodnight, Moon and twist it into a tale of shrill harpies hellbent on John Bobbitt-ing the male species and strangling newborn babies with their long, flowing strands of armpit hair.
That is the only explanation for his wildly inaccurate (and, it should go without saying, wildly sexist) April 16 interpretation of a study published this month in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. According to Rush, the study concluded “the real reason women pursue careers is because they fear they are too unattractive to get married.” (He also wondered, “Is this the real reason liberal women insist on working?”)
According to the actual study … not so much.
Keep reading »
I am a writer. I have been a writer since age eight, when I penned a dramatic tale about a girl who gets asked to the prom by the school bully. He turns out to be really nice, and they end up getting married. It was daring, featured some witty dialogue, and suggested an attraction to bad boys that never played out in real life. It also suggested something else—my classic, boring, old-fashioned interest in getting married and living happily ever after, in that order. Keep reading »
What do you do when one of the things you used to like about yourself the most, looking back, becomes one of the things that you like about yourself the least?
From as young as I can remember, a rocket ship of ambition propelled me forward in all that I did. I didn’t — and still don’t — have a wide variety of interests, because writing was where I excelled. I threw everything into it. My parents, of course, fanned the flames of this. They loved having a daughter who made them proud.
And I loved getting some attention. My older brother Eliot*, his bipolar disorder and his drug and alcohol addictions, consumed most of my parents’ energy and nearly all of their attention. I wrote a poem when I was 13 or 14 that I can remember to this day because it still applies to my life sometimes. It was called “Measuring Cups” and it was about parents struggling to measure out love and attention equally amongst their children, but failing. When I was that young, the best way I could find attention, short of developing a heroin addiction myself, was to impress my parents with awards and articles and prizes and accolades. There was no confusion about this lifestyle, no hard choices to make. All I had to do was whatever made me look the best. Keep reading »