From sow’s ear to California dreaming!
Sometimes the world just grabs your life by the short hairs and turns every expectation you had around and upside down.
That just happened to us. Wife (for privacy sake, I’ll use her title as a proper name) was asked by her employer to spend a few months out in Los Angeles, taking charge of a small outpost for the company. She and another department manager from the Indianapolis area would rotate months, attempting to stabilize this facility out in LA, while the decision of keep it going and build it up, or dump it and move the operations to another location were made by the powers-that-be: unknown faces in unknown suits sitting in glass towers in other states.
Wife did well. She and the other manager made a poor situation into one with potential. As my grandfather would have said from his little upholstery shop in northern Indiana: they made a sow’s ear into something that looked like it might eventually become a silk purse.
That meant the manager position in LA was moving from a dead end position to a growth opportunity. She was asked by several people if she wanted to apply for the position and move to LA.
This was a decision we hadn’t really expected to make. Did she want to leave a fairly secure position, one that she had grown into through experience and ability? The new position, if she got it, would mean selling everything back in Indianapolis, and heading for the city of Angels, traffic jams, outrageous land prices, brown scrub-covered mountains… and the Pacific Ocean.
Did I mention the ocean?
I love being on the water. Looking at the water. I’d go on ocean cruises – not for the food, or for the exciting new ports. But, just to sit and look out at the waves. My sis-in-law would point out that Cancers are a water sign. That makes sense. But, I also love not being cold. My least favorite season: Winter. Back in Indiana, we were having a fairly easy winter. Cold, with snow and ick. But not a lot of any of it.
Wife and I laughed at Californians as we wandered the streets of Santa Monica with palm trees silhouetted against the sky, and saw Californians huddled in their thick “winter” coats against what we would have called “autumn temps” and the wind that drove the wind chill down in the 40-degree range. The chill in California lasted about a week, then went up to “warm.”
Back in Indiana, we’d call that chilly week “nippy” and it would last most of the winter. In Cali, wool caps, scarves, and gloves were on everyone we saw that week. Here in the golden state, folks were complaining because they had to turn their heaters on. We’ve had our heaters going since October.
So, why California? That’s where the job is. Had another, similar, opportunity opened for Wife in, say, New Jersey, I probably wouldn’t be as excited as I am about California. Mostly warm weather – with a few exceptions – and the ocean. Great views, wine country, and one other qualification Indiana doesn’t have.
We’re also worried about my career. After investing in a class or two each year, over the last five years – with me spending my free time working on project after project for my graduate degree – Wife wants me to get a real job. With the shiny new Master’s degree in hand, finished up this past summer, I expected to be able to apply to nearby universities for any open positions in journalism schools.
Unfortunately, many four-year degree universities are now in a race to see how many instructors with Terminal Degrees they can have on staff. As I looked for teaching positions, universities across our home state posted jobs with minimum qualifications of Ph.D. or terminal degree required.
Wife seriously began to question our investment in my MA degree. (There is a difference – on paper, anyway – between a standard Masters, and the terminal version of a Masters: the MFA). I wasn’t aware of the difference when I headed back to school. But, we discovered how much the academic world cherishes the MFA as I began my job search.
Fortunately, as I began focusing my job potential on California, I discovered a cornucopia of community colleges. Many of them, with journalism schools, appear to be content with experienced journalists who have earned their Masters degrees. With luck and a lot of applications, I’m hoping to find that academic home here in (or near) the valley.
Oh, for those still wondering, yes, Wife was offered the manager position in LA.
She accepted it.
We’re moving.
She told me, again, “Get a job…”
I really like it.