My dad was in sales. He made a shit ton of money in sales. All I ever wanted to do was to make a shit ton of money in sales also.
I was a Communications/ English major. I got into sales immediately after college. My first “grown up” job (internship a few months prior to graduating) was in customer service for an International Import/ Export company. I had my own office. I slept under my desk. I was 23…. don’t judge.
Then I moved to Seattle and did sales/ office management.
Then I moved back to Florida. And went into sales for several years. I traveled the country, I sold. I was pretty good at what I did.
Then I got pregnant. I left my job. I looked for a temp job to get me through the next 6 months… I didn’t want to travel while pregnant and I didn’t want to keep a job that kept me away from home. I took a job as an “administrative assistant” to a VP of a Fortune 500 Company. It was temporary.
Except it wasn’t. I loved it. Who knew?
Spreadsheets and data and reports and number crunching…. I could get lost for hours in the numbers.
Number One is currently being diagnosed as ADHD. Number One (although he makes me punch a baby) is exactly like me.
I never knew that I could sit still and focus on one thing (besides reading) for hours until I took a job that I didn’t want. I stayed there for 8 years.
The job grew, the responsibilities grew, the title changed.. but it was still administration. I loved it.
The parts of the job that my peers hated (numbers, budgets, spreadsheets, monotony), I loved. I craved. I thrived.
Hot Mess Mom was supposed to be a creative outlet. It turned into a business.
I was supposed to make money on advertisers. I make money on product.
And sitting on my floor EVERY SINGLE NIGHT… processing orders, printing labels, packing boxes….. is exhausting. And frustrating. And maybe my favorite part of the day.
I don’t have a title for this post. There must be a name. Or a diagnosis. Or something that describes a person that hates the conventional, but strives off of structure…. I can’t explain it.. I don’t know what it is.. but it’s me. And if asked to spend a night dancing or creating charts and graphs… it would be a hard call. (as long as I had a cocktail in both situations)…
What’s the deal?
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Filed under: Dear Diary
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