Meet Healthcare Working Girl

I attended a national high school journalism conference in Washington, DC about halfway through my senior year. One of the first assignments we received was a huge interviewing project where we had to pick a buddy, interview each other and write a nice little intro piece for the conference booklet. I came across said booklet a few weeks ago and was completely taken aback to see that my ten year plan included, among other things, working for CNN, buying a house and birthing ten children. Yes, ten! Now, its approaching eleven years after that bizarre interview and since I’m not introducing myself as Media Working Girl you’ve probably guessed by now that at least part of that plan fell through.

Instead of hosting my own prime time news-talk hour and giving Anderson Cooper “the eye” during commercial breaks, I’m managing the professional lives and schedules of two wonderful—albeit high maintenance—senior vice presidents at an Atlanta-based healthcare consulting company, one of whom actually compared himself to Diana Ross during my first weeks as his assistant. While I’ve seen many a professional, degreed career woman scoff at the lowly assistant role, I happen to enjoy life in the trenches. Think of one of those popular TV dramas wherein the main characters are sprinting across the world following clues, torturing suspects, taking out WMDs, etc. There is rarely an episode where said characters do not find themselves in a jam and in immediate need of the recipe for a do-it-yourself dirty bomb or the floor plans of the Bagdad airport and out pops the cell phone. You see, that’s me, on the other end of that cell phone, tucked away in a darkened office, crouched in front of multiple computer screens with fingers flying over the keys, hacking into top secret files and supplying the intel.

Well, that’s kinda me. While my job is not nearly that glamorous nor does it involve national security, I do get quite a rush tracking down a client for a pop-up conference call or locating an alternate route to a meeting venue at the crack of dawn or figuring out the fastest and most cost effective way to get one of my guys to appointments in Chicago, San Diego, Las Vegas and back over a two day period. Its challenging and rarely boring. I did say rarely boring, not never boring, because there are times when 100+ page documents need proofing and PowerPoint presentations require formatting but at the end of the day, its fulfilling work.

After the daily grind, I leave my office and head over to what I consider my SECOND job: Two Little Girls, Inc.! My seven and four year old daughters are far more high maintenance but definitely more rewarding than any paying job I’ve ever had and being a single mother means that I can’t tag my partner into the ring when I need a break after 5 rounds of Uno Attack or just to create a diversion while I attempt to prepare a nutritious yet kid-delicious meal. So, after a day of tackling piles of expense reports, cold calling prospects and clearing paper jams in the copier, my evenings generally involve squeezing as much parenting as possible into the two hours we have together before bedtime. At that point, I take off all my hats and attempt, yes I do mean attempt, to focus on me: my health, my writing. Not in that order and rarely every day. I have a list of “me things” all lined up for the year 2024. That’s when the youngest will (hopefully) set out into the world, leaving me the time and energy to finally get some things done. And yes, I’m kidding . . . I hope.

As for the rest of my ten year plan, I didn’t get very far and I’m OK with that. I’ve come to terms with living in the aftermath of a failed marriage and several other not so great decisions that leave me feeling, at 29, way older and perhaps a little wiser. The fact that we’ve just entered a new decade has me all excited about renewal and endless possibilities while I’m simultaneously taking stock of my entire existence as I prepare to exit my twenties next month. It’s a strange yet electrifying place to be as I join the WG Staff as Healthcare Working Girl!

Meet Advertising Working Girl

Hi, I’m Advertising Working Girl and I’m a catchphrase-concocting Copywriter. I reside on the creative side of the advertising world and boy, do I love it. And now that I get to whip up compelling (and hopefully entertaining) posts as a Working Girl Contributor, I’m absolutely giddy with glee. (Yay Glee!)

I always knew I wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember (except that one month when I was 8 in which I had to be a Disney cartoonist…until I realized I couldn’t draw). As soon as I got to college and discovered the joys of copywriting, I knew that’s what I wanted to do. Though, as I’m sure pretty much any copywriter would agree, I would love to write books one day. Preferably chick lit. There’s nothing I love more than getting lost in a good, and somewhat mindless, book.

And while I love what I do, I haven’t been able to focus much on it lately. Why’s that? Well, in the last six weeks, my life has been swept up in a crazy whirlwind of change.

I took a huge leap of faith (and love), packed up my little life and moved to a new city, a new apartment and a heck of a new job . I’ve moved on from a tiny ad agency where everyone knew my name, shoe size, favorite ice cream toppings—everything—to the gigantic corporate world where I’m literally just a number.

The best part? For the first time in a long time, I feel excited. I’ve only been at my new job a few short weeks (with some holiday chaos thrown in for fun), but I’m absolutely loving it. I got the dream job I’d been craving and though I’m still learning the ropes, I know it’s going to be everything I hoped it would be—and more. Though it certainly won’t be without its challenges, it’s a position that’s filled with seemingly endless opportunities to grow and succeed.

But let’s be honest—being the new kid is awkward. As someone who is shy around new people, I’ve really tried to step out of my shell. In an office chock full of inside jokes, it’s a bit difficult to fit in. I find myself constantly trying to find the balance between happily joining in on conversations with co-workers and being the creepy eavesdropping girl who butts in. It’s quite difficult!

That’s nothing compared to trying to navigate my way around the actual office building. I would love to carry a map with me (oh yes, there are maps) but I’d rather not look like a lost little freshman. Thank goodness I had a nice long orientation to get me situated. I couldn’t even find the bathrooms for at least a half a day.

I honestly had no idea what to expect when I stepped into the corporate world. Over the holidays, I had three different relatives congratulate me on my first real job. Huh? I felt a tiny bit offended. After all, I’ve been a Working Girl for a few years now.

But honestly, it kind of does feel like my first REAL job. I actually have to dress up every day (which meant I just had to buy a new wardrobe, of course). And now I couldn’t be more excited to dive right in and take my new company by storm…a happy, thriving, successful storm.

Meet Teaching Working Girl

Over a year ago, WG1 and WG2 asked me to be a guest contributor and write about my not-as-typical Working Girl life after graduation, and I am honored to be asked to come back as a full-time contributor. For those of you who are too lazy to click and read (trust me - we all have our days), I'll give you the brief summary.

I graduated in 2007 with my degree in Communication. After interning in the city for a media company I realized it just wasn't for me. My days of playing school and teaching my dolls how to count Cheerios were still with me so I went to graduate school to become a teacher. After taking about 60 credits in one year and completing my student teaching I was a certified teacher. I thought I would complete my Masters in the next year but an unexpected job offer came up the last weekend of August.

The position turned out to be a teacher at a Head Start Preschool, which is a federally funded organization for underprivileged children. It was a challenging year (since I was one of the few teachers who was not bilingual), but the children were amazing. I took some more online courses and became officially certified in Early Childhood Education. It was heartbreaking to leave my ninos in June when I bought a condo with my sister and moved to Hoboken.

I spent most of my summer babysitting and job searching and when September rolled around and I was unemployed, I panicked. September passed, as did October and November. By this point I had been unemployed for 5 months. Speaking of, why isn't there a contributor called Unemployed Girl? Because I could so be her mentor! As much fun as it was at first sleeping late and watching Soap Net all day, it got old. Fast.

I applied for unemployment and got denied since I left my previous job voluntarily because of the move. My money was gone and I was scared I'd have to move back home. Luckily, my sister offered to be my sugar mama and helped me out so I didn't have to make that dreaded phone call to my parents.

December came and a friend of my fathers (who recently started a sales company) said he was looking for some help...in White Plains. For those of you who are geographically challenged like myself, this job required me to drive 2 hours both ways in traffic with angry New Yorkers. On top of that, the job entailed sitting at a desk in a small room with 5 other people making cold calls to appliance repairmen. My dream job? Notsomuch. Having no background in this I was shocked when I made my first sale..and then another..and another. It felt good, but not as satisfying as when I am with children and watching them grow and learn. Granted my preschool paycheck didn't put a dent in my bills, but the important thing was that I still loved it.

Luckily, I got a call on my third day of working as a corporate girl and got offered a job at a preschool for children with disabilities. And on my fourth day of work I gave my two weeks notice.

I was surprisingly sad to leave my White Plains coworkers. They were a lot of fun and we had become fast friends sitting in that office everyday from 9-6 but they understood why I had to leave. My boss knew my passion was teaching and he said he would never ask me to give it up. His support made me feel good about this new position, even though I am taking an extreme pay cut. (And I mean extreme as in making minimum wage). But it's not about the money because if it was I'd still be sitting in traffic on my way to White Plains at this exact moment (yes, the commute is torture). Plus, I have my sister aka my sugar mama to watch my back so I'm not too worried!

I'm really excited that I will be able to share my less typical Working Girl experiences with you. And just in case you wanted to know more about me, here are some fun facts. I am obsessed with this blog, The Office, Tom Hanks, and my dog Phoebe. I have a weird thing for Chris Daughtry and I love anything involving magic. I'm on the Junior Board of Directors for The Valerie Fund and I'd die if I didn't have DVR or Rock Band.

We Need a Contributor!

Once upon a time, Working Girl had Working Girl Contributors. Girls from Boston, LA, and Dallas (and other cities too!), who all wrote about their own experiences of just being out of college and trying to find the perfect job and dealing with college withdrawal.

And we want to bring this feature back to Working Girl! And to do so we'd like to involve our readers. Because we all know you're the ones we (and the rest of the world) want to hear from - real girls in the working trenches.

So here is our plea - we need contributors!

The Assignment

This past week, WG2 had a wardrobe malfunction when her wrap dress got blown open by the wind and she showed all of Chicago that she wore Spanx to work. We want to know about your worst wardrobe malfunction. So tell us all about it!

The Rules

The entry should only be one-page long in a Word document (double spaced please). We will only accept one entry per person. All submissions should be sent to workinggirlcontributor@gmail.com and need to be in our inbox by 5:00PM on August 24th. That's one whole week to figure out your story and submit it. We will post our favorite submission on Working Girl in September.

Any questions? Shoot us an email at workinggirlone@gmail.com or workinggirltwo@gmail.com. Or you can always tweet or DM us on Twitter as well - @workinggirlone and @workinggirltwo.

We can't wait to read your entries!

A Working Girl in Beantown

'A Working Girl in...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl living in Boston, Massachusetts and her job at an internet marketing company. 

Last year, I graduated from an A #1 university in Connecticut and I made my triumphant return back to my hometown of Boston. I was ready to grab my own title in this city of champions - a marketing title that is. And with that title, I was looking for an office - preferably a corner office (with a view too) and it wouldn't hurt if it was over-looking the Charles. 

There was just one small teeny tiny problemo. There were no jobs amigos. Nada, zip, zilch. Nope, even after months of applying and endless interviews I had returned home to find myself unemployed and living with my parents and three siblings in our loud and crowded home. At this point, what is a determined Working Girl to do?

In this my case, it meant reverting to my summer job on Cape Cod, waiting tables, and living with my grandmother in another loud and crowded house.  And although my dreams of a corner office, a corporate card, and a VP title right out of college had been dashed, a great summer did await me. I had lots of good friends, great family, plenty of beaches and tons of booze, and even a hot summer romance. I spent my summer making tons of cash (but spending most of it), laying out on the beach, and hanging with friends and my summer beau-hunk. Like all good things though, summer came to an end - as did my seasonal employment (as well as my beau in case you were wondering).

It was time to say my goodbyes and head over that bridge to the "real world." I bit the bullet and after a few interviews I finally landed a job at an internet marketing company outside of the Hub. No corner office, no cushy title, no corporate card, but it's a start. First of all, it's a marketing position, which is what I have been searching for all these months. I have learned a great deal and have worked on some interesting projects. 

I can't lie though, this is not the start I had hoped for myself and I can't help but feel that I am slightly overqualified (ie: it's 11:30 a.m. on Wednesday as I'm writing this and I'm finished the projects that my boss had thought would take me the rest of this week so I plan to spend most of the rest of this day writing this article and looking online at clothes I can't afford). But as the news and gas prices keep indicating, these are hard times. So I can't help but think at least it's a start, right? Right?

In this question lies my inner struggle as a fairly new Working Girl. Am I being greedy or presumptuous wanting more? Or have I settled for too little? Which makes me wonder...would I settle for just an OK pair of jeans or a mediocre boyfriend? Absolutely not! So why am I settling for a job I am fairly confident I am better than?

With this revelation I have begun the big search. Somewhere in this city lies my dream job - one where I'm busy more than two hours a day and I have projects assigned to me that actually interest me. But as my search continues, I know one variable that will remain constant. I will always live in the city that I love. Even if your job totally blows, in Boston you can at least count on being able to get a half day once a year to attend a championship parade. I kid. But truly, Boston is a great place to live and work (not to mention all the attractive Working Boys in Beantown). If you've never been to Boston, let me tell you, it's a great place to come and stay forever.

Yeah, I said forevah. We're not just a city of "wicked pissah sports teams" (although we have plenty of those). Boston has a great nightlife, good food, and great drinks. We have no problem getting hammered and doing karaoke on a Wednesday. We're superstitious and we look out for each other, and if you're not with us, you're against us. We won't tolerate fakers or liars (with the exception of a few of our own athletes and politicians of course). Not only that, but we're responsible for Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg, NKOTB, and Good Will Hunting. We will however not take credit for Ben Affleck, but you can certainly thank us for real New England Clam Chowder, basketball, Vineyard Vines, Cheers, Aerosmith, Steve Carrell (and most of the cast of The Office) and much much more.

The moral of my story - yeah, so my job pretty much totally sucks right now, but I have faith that something better will come along. And I can deal with it for now, because I live in a city that knows how to have a good time - even if it has to wait to start until after 5:00.

A Working Girl Down the Shore

'A Working Girl in...'  is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl living on the Jersey Shore about her decision to become a teacher despite her background in Communication. 

I'm not your conventional Working Girl who lives in a big city. I don't wear posh clothes or pointy heels every day to work. I don't do Starbucks runs or make photocopies for my "way too into herself" boss. 

In fact, my daily activities are the exact opposite. I live in a small town down the Jersey Shore. I wear button-downs and flats to work everyday. I make frequent visits to my purse for my Advil bottle and the only photocopies I'm making are for my 25 screaming students since I'm a teacher.

Teaching was not always included in my life plan. In college I was a Communication major from day one - a major that was mostly full of lacrosse players and preppy girls with pearls and matching drug problems. Communication was also known as the 'easy way out' at our college. My roommates joked that I never had a class before noon and that I wrote papers probably once every two months. Unlike my fellow classmates, I took my major seriously. Well, kind of (and apparently not as seriously as WG1). 

At first, I truly did want a career in Communication with the goal being to work for a television station or maybe even in the movie business. However, I ended up taking easy classes with professors who were closer in age to me than my parents. I was basically the Shawn Hunter of my friends (minus the leather jacket and the minor detail of not living in a trailer). 

Fast forward to summer after junior year (also known as my "Gimp Year" because of an injury I sustained on a muddy hill after my team took gold in Beer Olympics) when I interned for CBS Radio in Times Square. I liked the work, (some of) the people, and the grown-up feeling I got as I pushed my way through screaming Paris Hilton fans as I made my way into the MTV building. 

However, everyday I got on the crowded train, I felt more and more guilty.  The money my parents were spending to make me a ‘businesswoman’ was going down the drain. I didn’t want to do this the rest of my life. I realized I wanted to do what I dreamed of since I was a little girl - and that was being a teacher. 

So after graduation, as WG2 moved in with my family and began her job as an assistant three days after we left college (did I mention that WG1 & WG2 are two of my best friends?), I started taking online courses to become a teacher, spent my days at the pool, and waited by the window for WG2 to pull into the driveway at seven every night. By not having a job right out of college, I had become the rebel of the family. 

I stuck with my courses to become a teacher though and in the fall I completed an accelerated nine-month program to become a K-5 Elementary and Special Education Teacher.  It was the hardest nine months of my life (but I've never been pregnant so I assume that has to be worse). I took 30 credits per semester while student-teaching my ass off in a small rural town for one of the toughest classes in the school. Think third graders making suicide threats, stabbing one another with pencils, and students losing their best friends in drive-by accidents. Even though I don't live in New York City, it still felt like it sometimes this year.

Even through all the "but Mom, I don't wanna go to school tomorrow" tears on Sunday nights and partying way too hard on Saturday nights (Fridays are just too exhausting), I made it through and became a certified teacher.  This summer, along with enjoying my time away from the kids (I think I deserve it), I am taking courses toward my Masters and should be finished by December. 

Sometimes I get jealous of my friends and their glam lifestyles in the city, but I will never regret my decision to go back to school and follow my childhood dream. And even though I will never make big money and I'll probably have to live with my parents until I get hitched, I still get my summers off (you know you're jealous). 

A Working Girl in La La Land

'A Working Girl in...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl from Los Angeles, California about her career enrolled in a finance leadership program that has four six-month rotations that move those enlisted across the country to experience different financial functions while taking internal MBA courses.

"Congratulations, your next rotation will be located in Burbank, CA. Attached is your relocation package, as well as the contact information for your future manager. Please let me know if there is anything I can help you with."

When I first heard the news that I was going to have to relocate from New York City to Los Angeles for the first rotation of my finance leadership program, I remember thinking, ‘Sure, can you pay my therapist bills?’

I had been sitting at my desk at the headquarters of a worldwide conglomerate and I had just agreed to move across country. In the next three weeks, I would have to wrap up my current position, train a former Dolce & Gabbana model to “like learn finance”, move across the country away from my family and friends, and start a new life in a new city – alone.

It was six days before Christmas, two weeks before my first year-end close, and approximately one second before a quarter-life crisis and mental breakdown. I’m talking about a legit breakdown. The usually mute manager from across the hall validated the visibility of my instable state when he asked me if there had been a death in my family (I’m guessing the fruit basket I had coincidentally won from the cafeteria that morning hadn’t helped the situation).

That night, I kicked off the celebration of my first rotation with a liquid dinner and a lot of Kleenex.

Fast forward five months, after a weekend of “house hunting”, in which I only left my hotel room and ANTM marathon to a) go to Pinkberry and b) swipe away my signing bonus at the Beverly Center, and I’ve finally learned how to navigate ten Excel documents without using a mouse, audited the “Sexiest Weather Anchor” of Maxim on her excessive company expenditures, and finally completed my first “semester” of MBA-like coursework while commuting back and forth between L.A. and Hotlanta (while singing “Welcome to Atlanta” every time I stepped off the plane).

The most important things that I’ve learned along this long journey are also the hardest. I’ve learned how to step out of my comfort zone to make friends in a new city and have realized what it means to miss someone. I’ve learned how to work hard, but play a bit harder, and to maintain a balance of aggression and compassion at the office – two things that are important and necessary for every worker no matter what industry you are in or how old you may be.

Although I still despise certain things about this city of Hollywood glamour (Wayfarer sunglasses, traffic, Ed Hardy, and waiting in line to get into my neighborhood bar just to name a few), I’ve learned to love the little things that Los Angeles has to offer (like never needing an umbrella).

As the first rotation of my program comes to a close, stay tuned as to where I’ll end up this August (because your guess is as good as mine). And if anyone is interested, I’m hitting up my neighborhood bar tonight. If you want to join me, I’ll be the blonde toasting early retirement with a shot of tequila chased down with a vodka tonic.

A Working Girl in 'Cuse

'A Working Girl in...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl from Syracuse, New York about her job as a waitress and bartender while pursuing her dream to attain a master's degree in psychology.


I've always had the theory that your first year of college can either be the worst or best year of your life.

Best case scenario you move out on your own in some new, exciting city, get a job doing what you love making tons of money in the process, and start out your early twenties young, hot, rich, and ready to take over the world.

Worst case scenario you move back home with mom and dad, struggle to find a job that utilizes your $160,000 degree education and instead settle for something that pays just over minimum wage, and slowly disintegrate into a slob whose dreams and ambitions are beginning to fade.

Enter: Me and the Worst Case Scenario.

As graduation slipped by and those last 30 days of keg stands and cheeseburgers slowly melted away, I was forced to look deep within myself and ask, "Are you really moving back home right now?". This is not how it was supposed to be. I'm supposed to be moving on up - to the big city, with the big jobs, and the big nightlife with the big handsome men. I was not supposed to be going back to Syracuse where the only thing slower than the economy is that guy you used to date in eleventh grade (because, yes, he moved home too). In order to cope with such a setback I convinced myself this was only temporary, just one year, and then I could move off to somewhere bigger and better and finally have my Mary Tyler Moore moment - hat throwing and all.

I found myself the highest paying "non-job" I could and started waitressing and bar-tending in one of Syracuse's fancy-schmancy restaurants. It definitely has its perks. 'Tasting' (or as I like to call it 'drinking on the job') is encouraged, which means I'm making use of at least one of the things that I learned in college. I also get to sleep in everyday and have become an absolute daytime TV fanatic. For you 9-5'ers who haven't had a sick day in a while let me update you: Drew Carey has completely ruined "The Price is Right". I recommend switching over to "The View" or "Family Feud". However, contemporary female debate cannot compensate for everything. Just as you Working Girls have to deal with office politics and burecratic bullshit, I too face challenges at my job. Not only must I memorize 400 bottles of wine, knowing the exact difference between each burgundy and beaujolias, but I must also deal with the wandering eyes and lingering hands of the city's finest doctors, lawyers, and semi-retired mob bookies.

As my one year anniversary of "adulthood" approaches I've tried to look back on this year with unbiased eyes. It really hasn't been that bad after all. You can't beat having roommates who pay all the bills and do all the cooking and cleaning. I've also come to realize that once they've stopped worrying about curfews and teenage pregnancy my parents are actually pretty cool people. With no bills to pay I've had the chance to save up a good chunk of money and have had the opportunity to see my hometown in a new light. Say what you will about Syracuse but I don't know of many other places that offer both nightlife and the great outdoors just twenty minutes away from one another. I'm starting to think that this year spent at home has been a beneficial experience. I've actually come to appreciate what this city has to offer. Had I moved away right after graduation I'd be in debt, super stressed, and who knows how often I would get to see the fam. I imagine I will miss this place more than I expect once I leave.

Oh yea, did I mention I was leaving?

I've managed to enroll myself in graduate school and have secured an internship in the city to trump all others - New York City. It looks as though my big plans are going to take off after all and hopefully after this short delay I'll be better equipped to handle whatever life throws at me. In the meantime, I'll be practicing my joyful hat throwing because like the song says, "You're gonna make it after all."

A Working Girl in the Big D

'A Working Girl in the ...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl from Dallas, Texas about her career as an entry-level advertising executive.

It seems like only a year ago I was graduating from UNC, planning my big move out to Dallas, Texas, and patting myself on the back for snagging a job in advertising. Oh, wait, rewind and retract -- that was only a year ago. Is it just me or do we automatically age five years after college graduation? Since becoming a Working Girl several phrases have entered my vocabulary that I didn't think would pass from my lips just a few months after being able to win five straight games of beer pong. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly have another - I wouldn't want to be hung over tomorrow," or the common, "I should be getting home. It's getting late." Check your watch after I let these words escape and it's probably only 9:00 p.m. But since graduation, I start getting tired around 8:30 p.m. and once I hit that couch there is no peeling me away.

Contrary to what you might believe, we Dallas girls don’t wear cowboy boots to work (at least not every day) or talk about the latest country diva to grace CMT around the water-cooler. In fact, Dallas jumps on the bandwagon of every new trend in dining and fashion making Dallas essentially the New York City of the Southwest (or at least that’s what Dallas-ites would like to believe).

Dallas is most famous for its pro sports, shopping, restaurants, nightlife and the ever present $30,000 millionaire. Not familiar? This is the Working Girl or Boy who leave their house in the latest designer threads and drive a BMW 3-series (but live in dumps and eat Ramen noodles for every meal unless they are throwing down hundred dollar bills at the trendy, new restaurant down the street). It’s a whole different breed of the Working Girl and Boy.

Not able to reach the exclusive status of a $30,000 millionaire based on my entry-level salary, I settle for a simpler life as an Assistant Account Executive at a small advertising agency in an area just outside of Dallas. Day to day my job consists of proof-reading advertisements, dealing with some of the most uneducated clients you can imagine, and writing new business proposals (this being the most entertaining part of my job), along with several other menial tasks. While I may complain a little about the menial tasks, I do enjoy my job and I’m especially proud that I’ve managed to snag a career in the same field as my college major. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment that I actually learned something in between the late night eating and fraternity parties.

Eventually, my goal is to tack on “senior” to the front of my semi-legit title (I must say having the word “executive” in my title does make me feel smidge important - but only a smidge). My other major goal is to master the art of balancing the different working world dynamics and personalities. For example, I’ve mastered the acting-like-I-care smile when my boss feels the need to delve into the details of her oh-so disgusting sex life. Now I just have to perfect figuring out who you can trust and who is just out to step on you to get to the top is a tricky one.

That, and how to stay up past 9 p.m. on a weekday.

A Working Girl in the Insurance Capital of the World

'A Working Girl in the ...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl from Hartford, Connecticut about her career in the world of insurance.

When my good friends WG1 and WG2 asked that I be the first of many contributors to their ever-growing blog, I must admit my intimidation. While I share their love of writing, reading, and all things blogospheric, I don't quite lead the glamorous life they do. I say this because while they're busy climbing the working girl ladder in New York City, I'm stuck in central Connecticut with one foot still firmly planted on the ground.

Last May I left college with a degree in creative writing, multiple internships in publishing under my belt, a very unfortunate beer belly, and not one clue as to what I'd be doing when I left. It's been ten months now, and my fancy resume, (almost) disappeared beer belly, and I have somehow landed in the tan cubicle of an insurance company in the city of Hartford. I told you it wasn't so glamorous.

When I was a senior in high school I made a strict itinerary for the next ten years of my life. A year in California, two years abroad, a novel by age 28, and so on and so forth. Fast forward five years and half-way through my timeline and all that's fully crossed off my list is graduating college. The truth is that I spent so much time dreaming when I was younger that I never thought that maybe, just maybe, reality was going to kick in. And man alive, did it kick me in the ass.

I suppose I could have made the move to the Big Apple. I suppose I could have even moved in with Working Girls Uno and Dos (ladies? yes? no? maybe?). After all, New York does offer far more opportunities in editing and writing than Connecticut. And I mean far more, like a 20:1 ratio. But the truth is that (and I know this is going to sound blasphemous to some of your little ears) I don't like New York - not one bit. I interned in Lincoln Center during my senior year and it just didn't do it for me. It's chic and exciting for some, but claustrophobic and chaotic for me.

So where does this all leave moi? That's pretty much what I'm trying to figure out. I'll regretfully mention again that I've been working for an insurance company for the past 6 months. In that time span I've looked into dozens of apartments, been in correspondence with multiple European landlords, contacted numerous potential "flatmates" in Ireland, began the registration process for more than one African volunteer group, looked up Hawaiian real-estate, and convinced myself out of quitting my God-awful, car-sickening job at least a hundred times.

When it comes down to it, I just want to have a job that makes me happy. My best friend once told me during my post-college despair that being overwhelming happy with your 9 to 5 isn't necessarily the most crucial part of life. If you're happy with your personal life and not completely miserable with work, then consider yourself a success. I have a sneaky suspicion she was just trying to make me feel better about all the insurance job interviews I had lined up (I mean, really Connecticut? Really? You have nothing else to offer but insurance?). Either way, it worked.

As it stands now, I'm slowly beginning to piece together what I'm meant to do. I want to write, I know that. I want to have a career that let's me be creative, I know that too. And I want to travel, and learn to surf, and open a store, and move to the beach, and become an interior designer, and have a gazillion children, and all of those delicious things. But for now, while I'm 23 and paying loans up the wazoo and living with my Mum and Dad, I'll accept working at an insurance company. I have open house for grad school coming up, and it looks like becoming the next great (emphasis on great) high school English teacher might (another emphasis on might) be in the cards for me. Then I'll have time to get my MFA in fiction writing so I can try to trump J.K. Rowling.

I suppose what I'm trying to say, maybe if only to convince myself of it, is that not being 100% on track with your future career is more than okay - it's normal. You just need to stay on track, otherwise you'll for sure end up hating life. So, as I continue to chip away my mountain of loans with my terrible, horrible insurance job (which I am on the path to replacing, btw), I'll also go home and write a little and, should I decide to, go to class to get my Masters.

And in between the interviews and short-stories and applications, I'll remember to not lose site of the list I made for myself 5 years ago. It's a tricky little balance, teeter-tottering between hoop-dreams and responsibilities, but hot-damn I plan on fulfilling what I set out for myself in high school...even if it takes me till I'm wrinkled and drinking prune juice to complete it.

A Working Girl in the Windy City

'A Working Girl in the ...' is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week's post was written by a Working Girl from Chicago, Illinois about her career as a junior copywriter. 

My days are filled with working on farming equipment, fighting with super-heroes, and searching for just the right words to explain how Facebook on your Blackberry is like having peanut butter with your jelly. I'm a junior copywriter and I get paid to be creative (in other words, I write copy for ads - not copyrights as my uncles still seem to think).

I’m a Midwest Working Girl born and raised, and now I'm working in my Sweet Home Chicago, where the winters are never-ending, the Cubs are the talk of the town (this is our year!) and where you can strike up friendly conversations with anyone on a bus, in an elevator or even on the street. Though just a word of warning, be careful of the creeps...especially on the bus (a story for another time).

Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a writer but when I went to college in the land of cheese and obese Packer fans (don’t even get me started), I discovered and fell in love with the wonderful world of advertising. When I declared my double major in advertising and public relations, it was a no-brainer to me to choose copywriting as my career path since it is defined as a profession that takes publicity, advertising, and writing and uses them to promote an idea, a brand, or a website among many other things.

I completed two internships during my senior year of college. The first was at a regional branch of an amazing Boston-based advertising agency. There, I worked on the McDonald’s account for almost 8 months. After sitting next to giant posters of McFlurrys and Snack Wraps all day, I began to crave them all the time…and I still do. For my second internship, my copywriting professor hired me as his intern and I spent a semester writing copy for industrial heaters, air conditioning units, and eyeglass cutting machinery. Absolutely riveting stuff, I know.

When it came to finding my first real Working Girl job, I didn’t have to look far. In fact, I only sent out my resume to one person (after he contacted me for it), had one interview and voila! I was hired. I was really, really lucky. My current boss had given a presentation in one of my classes in October of senior year. Before he even spoke, I handed him my resume and cover letter. In the beginning of July, he emailed me out of the blue asking me if I would be interested in an interview. Ten days and one short interview later, I was a Working Girl.

My boss later told me (after a rowdy client holiday party) that I stood out to him because never before had someone given him their resume, in front of the whole class, before he even started talking. He said he couldn’t believe I had the guts to do that. Me? A gutsy girl? I didn’t think I was at the time, but it just goes to show how putting yourself out there and meeting the right people can really pay off. I think networking with people throughout all facets of the industry in which you want to work is the key to success and landing your “dream job”.

So where would I like to go with my job? Well eventually I’d like to lose the “junior” on my title. It makes me sound like a girl-scout-in-training. Despite that I feel lucky because I ended up with the job I truly wanted and hopefully I’ll get to stick with it and grow from here.

For now, I’ll just enjoy working on The Magnificent Mile and living in the thriving metropolis that is my home. Though the first few months were a tough adjustment for me (only 10 vacation days?!), I’m beginning to realize that I actually can handle the Working Girl lifestyle. 

But before you think I don't still have a little college in me, I'd like to just say “everybody’s workin’ for the weekend” has become my midweek battle cry even though I love my creatively quirky job.