Fresh Out -- Part 1

Alright ... so where to begin.  Let's start with the facts ... I found myself twenty+ years in corporate America and fresh out of testosterone … exhausted, depleted, gone, running on empty, out of gas!  I have used up my very last ounce.  I drove into work that day and parked my new, expensive SUV in my reserve space.  I walked into my corner office with the spectacular view and sat behind my large, mahogany desk all the while thinking … my will to compete has passed away. How long before all my hard earned perks will pass away too?  Call me stupid.  Call me naïve. Call me pressed up against that glass ceiling so hard you would barely recognize my face from the other side. It was, in fact, my very last ounce of testosterone that beckoned me, hurl yourself, one last time, at the glass with a SPLAT so loud that it could be heard through out the hallowed company halls … well, more like the carpeted company cubicles. But alas, I have lost both my battle and my testosterone. What’s a professional woman in corporate America to do?  There were a number of options ranging from anger to tears. I decided to go with one in the middle … laughter. I had decided I would try to laugh about it; stop fighting it; write about it. I couldn't be the only woman with an empty gas tank. As an official member of the later baby boom generation, I was willing to bet that there were a lot of women whose dip sticks were registering dry. Yet the men around me, of all generations, were holding their own … endless supply of testosterone … not dip sticks.

When did you first know that you wanted a career? You needed a career if you were going to live that middle class dream.  You wanted the house, the cars, the kids, the vacations and the comfortable life. You just couldn’t do it with a ‘job’ unless you were willing to work two jobs. This revelation came to me, around the age of 21,  during my part-time day job, cooking breakfast and serving lunch. Even with the paycheck from the second shift position at the medical center, it was barely enough to make ends meet.  My solution was to get a roommate, drop the day job and get back to college.  Little did I know that with this decision I began tapping my testosterone reservoir. That kind of decision was one a man would make … not so much a women in those days. My two best friends from high school were in college and they would openly admit that they were there looking for husbands. I’m not sure if they ever finished their degrees but they are both married.  My other friends were actively searching for their ‘knights in shining armor’ by frequenting many of the local bars and getting invited to as many parties as possible. But I was going back to school to pursue a career. What was I thinking?

I'll tell you what ... in the next post.