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So, what do you want to be when you grow up? |
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When I was seven years-old, I would have said, "a pilot," but then after a school trip to Newark Airport in 1977, my dream nose-dived to the ground when one of the pilots told my class we had to have "perfect" eyesight in order to fly. |
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Having 20/250 eyesight (not a typo) meant bumping into that closed door was pretty much all I could hope for, up until laser surgery emerged in the '90s. I'm considering a procedure called "LADARVision" next year though, once I go through my year-supply of disposable contact lenses. |
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Update: In February of '06 I successfully underwent Lasik. My vision's perfect. |
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So, what do you want to be tomorrow morning? |
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In eighth grade we had a career fair, and I couldn't decide which career I wanted to present. Stupid thirteen year-old. Of course every person who has just entered their teen years knows what they want to do with the rest of their life, right? |
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My procrastination led me to the field of Dentistry. No, I never had an interest in sticking my hands in someone's germ-filled, absessed piehole. Truthfully, the only reason I settled on Dentistry was because the presentation was the next day and for some reason the old Play-Doh Dr. Drill n' Fill looked like it could be adapted for the task at hand.
His monstrous, caricatured head accepted these giant tooth implants I made from some gruel, comprised mainly of baking soda, and I don't know why I just didn't use Play-Doh. Yes, it looked horrible. Yes, it was a disaster. Why do schools make thirteen-year-old children embarrass themselves? |
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Play-Doh's Dr. Drill n' Fill
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One good thing did come out of my eighth grade year in school. I was the editor of the school newspaper. Now if only one of my teachers noticed my penchant for storytelling I wouldn't have embarrassed myself with "Mr. Giant Head and His Enormous Baking Soda Teeth." |
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So, who do you want to be in four years? |
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In high school, my dream in life was...to not be in high school. I was your typical teen: a hormone factory, walking (awkwardly and) aimlessly through life; unfocused, undisciplined, irresponsible, ignorant, a slacker...you get the picture. |
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So, what are you going to do with your life? |
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It wasn't until after I graduated high school and started my not-fabulous career in the not-Wonderful World of Retail at the local Bradlees department store when I realized my life wasn't going anywhere earning their "competitive wages."
A television commercial recently aired, featuring a woman with two college degrees whose only remaining career opportunity rested as a department manager at her local Wal-Mart. Is it just me or does that career path sound less like a personal success story and more like a self-introduction at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting? |
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So, were you in the middle of dinner?...I'll only take a min...Oh, okay. Sorry. |
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After burning all the retail opportunities, I left that dead-end field and stumbled into the hell pit of telemarketing. Back in 1989 the abject disdain for telemarketers hadn't developed yet and pitchforks and firesticks against the industry wouldn't be raised for another ten years, so I saw this as a career improvement, since the earning potential far exceeded the slave wages of retail. |
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Telemarketing taught me the art of the telephone conversation. Your tone needs to fluctuate, in order to keep the listener interested in what you have to say. Stimulating content helps too, but if it's delivered á-la-Ben-Stein monotone, they're going to hang up on you; even if you're giving them something for free.
Reflecting upon my illustrious telemarketing career, I've concluded that this base desperation, to keep the party on the phone long enough to convince them about whatever I was calling them about was the saddest way to "whore out" a living. It's pan-handling; only from the comfort of an office chair, while chain-smoking in a room filled with other similarly-situated losers.
Sad, huh? Kind of like "Dial a friend." Bleck. |
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Ironically, intruding into people's lives (see "harassment") taught me the importance of speaking honestly when selling. If people can sense dishonesty, discomfort or an uneasiness in your voice, they're not going to trust you; and they shouldn't.
After a couple of years of talking my ass off, I left the industry, but not empty-handed. I learned what it was like to swim among sharks: salespeople who would stab their mothers in the back just to turn a buck; contemptible miscreants who crowed over cutting down colleagues while chuckling contentedly over their coffers, and other unscrupulous bottom-feeders who are probably still wallowing in the mud, better known as "direct sales." I liken the experience to a sort of boot-camp. A good friend said, "Doug, think of it this way: You just graduated from sales college." |
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So, what do you want to do with your mind? |
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When I was 22, I developed a real interest in the law, or more broadly, the Criminal Justice system. Maybe I was inspired from watching too much L.A. Law, but everything about the criminal mind, abnormal psychology (the minds of serial killers), criminology (the roots of crime), helping people, etc., really interested me.
This seemingly macabre fascination with wackos wasn't overly influenced by my score of Stephen King novels either. The desire came from something more innate. I wanted to learn more about the law, politics and The Constitution and history and literature. I was feeling a thirst for knowledge; stimulation. A challenge. I was ready for college.
Attending college with the eighteen-year-olds while in my early twenties sometimes made me feel like I was already too far behind in the game of life, but the decision I made was right for me. I wasn't ready for school until then. If I had gone earlier, it would have been a waste of time and money. I wasn't going to be one of those nineteen-year-olds who were in college because their parents made them attend. I couldn't be. I was paying for this and working full-time through it all.
College would prove to mature me, and satisfy my need for educational fulfillment. All of those expository writing classes really taught me how to write. I learned how to read an author's work and scrutinize their arguments, to assess whether or not logical fallacies were being employed to convince the reader, and how to interpret the writer's point of view and challenge their conclusions. |
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So, what are you going to do to pay for this? |
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Through club-hopping, er, I mean networking, I met a woman who would become one of my best friends. She landed me a job at AT&T selling residential phones and small-business phone systems. The pay stunk, but they would pay for college; not all of it, but hey, anything would help.
It was at AT&T I learned the other half of the sales coin: The art of body language, eye contact, gestures, mannerisms, LISTENING. Those folks know their stuff. I went through hours, weeks, of training courses, some computer-based, others face-to-face. I emerged a successful salesperson, combining my previous telemarketing skills, with my newly acquired one-on-one sales skills.
My educational goals didn't coincide with my professional goals though, and I was constantly asked why I was working in sales if my major was pre-law? The sales job was paying for college, so I took a job in sales so I could get a job out of sales.
Upon graduation, the job hunt was depressing. Every career opportunity in the Criminal Justice field had entry-level pay lower than what I was earning in sales. The area of Victim-Witness Assistance Centers really interested me, but the salaries were criminal. I had to look elsewhere, and logically, people try to find gainful employment where their experience lies, right? The irony was inescapable: A Bachelor's degree, combined with my sales and marketing experience, made me a hot commodity; at least in sales.
I landed a better job in sales.
I got a great job working for a high-end appliance manufacturer helping consumers decide which products best suited their needs. |
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So, what do you want to do with your life? |
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After eighteen months of the same routine, I needed a challenge. The Marketing Manager needed someone to take over the company website, and my manager, Bob, was looking for a new ladder for me to climb at Miele. However, in 1997, the I.T. department consisted of one manager, one full-time programmer and one contracted programmer.
Bob's confidence in me was a refreshing change from previous supervisors. The opportunity presented itself, and I accepted. I attended classes at Fairleigh Dickinson for four months, learning the skills necessary to maintain the website. I had just begun my Information Technology career. |
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So, what are you going to do to stay sharp? |
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For a year (2001-2002) I attended classes at a local technology school for programming, but grew weary of the school's break-neck-speed curriculum, poor classroom materials, sometimes worse instructors, and the overall toll it took on my life. I got what I needed from them and left before graduation. Most of my classmates needed this degree. I already had a Bachelor's degree from an accredited institution. The only reason I was attending this school was for knowledge; knowledge they really weren't delivering. There was too much, too fast, and not enough time to process, practice, or perfect.
Since leaving though, I did, in my own time, develop, practice and perfect many of the languages and technologies the school teaches. Additionally, over the past five years, I've taken classes in Photo Shop and Flash and have gotten pretty good with both of them. |
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So, what do you want to do with the rest of your life? |
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Working on the Web is an outlet for showcasing creativity and the generation X'er in me loves the whole "instant gratification" aspect of development. Software development can take months, if not years. Web projects can span months or even days. Their life span from drawing board to production is much shorter. And for me, the guy who stands in front of the microwave oven screaming, COME ON ALREADY!, you can imagine how perfect this field is for me.
I think what's most important is: I love what I do. It's just so sad that there are so many people who absolutely hate work, hate getting up in the morning and have no ambition or drive to improve their quality of life. That's no way to live your life.
It's so rewarding to be able to take an idea, even my own ideas, from the concept stage, develop it, and deliver the final product. Tremendous freedom comes from self-sufficience.
If I was asked today "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I'd probably counter with "That depends on the kinds of opportunities you're willing to offer me."
I like working in an environment where I can be creative: where I can write, program, work with art, photography and help people. I'd also like a place where I can sell: either a product, myself and my skills, or a service provided.
I am fulfilled most when I express myself creatively, and if my work additionally informs or entertains others, then my fulfillment is complete. |
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© 2003-2009, Doug Noto.
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All rights reserved. Do not copy or cite without express permission.
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