A Job-less World

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True visionaries come around once in a great while.  I’m talking about those who not only envision the future, but actually make things that seem impossible come to life.
I’m not one of those people.  Oh sure, I have had my share of great ideas.  My challenge is in believing that I could actually make a seemingly far-fetched idea a reality.
Some of my more ‘visionary’ ideas came during childhood. Walking home from school was a huge pain to me and my friends.  It wasn’t more than 8 blocks, although it was hilly, we were in the Texas heat and I was usually carrying books and a lunch box.  It seemed like the most arduous task, this walk.  To pass time, we’d let our imaginations wander.  I remember wishing that cars would have refrigerators in them so I could always have a cold drink. Maybe they could have a place for snacks too, so I wouldn’t pass out from starvation.  Even a TV to pass the time during family road-trips.
I thought it was fun to dream, but this wasn’t something that would happen. Or at least I couldn’t figure out how to make it happen. 
While most cars don’t have refrigerators, they do have drink holders. Wish I could take responsibility for having made that happen! And video screens in cars are almost old-school. Even more fun is the wireless connectivity that enables us to have a phone conversation through the car stereo speakers.  I’m pretty sure this was thought up by a kid walking home from school as well.
Even if I’m not one of them, I appreciate the genius that true visionaries share with the rest of the world.
We recently lost one of these rare individuals. Watching the news story about Steve Jobs’ life, it was eerie to watch a clip of him from 20+ years ago as he told us what we wanted, when even we didn’t know we wanted it.
Steve Jobs said we wanted “full-color screens” and that we wanted to watch full-motion video.  Back when he made these crazy statements, I was just happy to have a desk-top computer.  Steve had the vision that our electronic devices not only should work well but should also be stylish and come in a variety of colors instead of black.  Little did I know that I would become addicted to Mr. Jobs’ creations. 
Most of us just learned the “behind the scenes” story of Steve Jobs’ life.  That he was adopted. That as a kid he was a trouble-maker. That he dropped out of college due in part to financial constraints.  Apparently one of the most successful people in world had set-backs, including being ousted from the company that he founded. 
Ouch. That’s got to hurt.
Being the true visionary that he was, Steve apparently chose to look forward instead of licking his wounds, moving on to different opportunities including Pixar.  Lucky for us, huh? I’d hate to think of Woody and Buzz Lightyear in the old, flat two-dimensional cartoon format. 
We can all talk about how impressive Mr. Jobs’ vision was, how impressive his intelligence was, how impressive that he made money, etc.   You know what is most impressive to me, and something that I can actually use in my own life? His “never give up” attitude. 
When he couldn’t afford college, he kept on trying.  When he was ousted from Apple, he found a new opportunity.  When he was diagnosed with cancer, he fought back and kept moving forward.   For much of his career, this was all done in the public eye.  How tough is that?
Those of us in lay-off land can learn from Steve Jobs.  True, we may not be the visionary that he was.  But we can pick ourselves up and move forward.  We can fight for what we want. We can envision ourselves in a new opportunity. And we can try to maintain a positive attitude.
The legacy of Steve Jobs will be forever in the history books.  Online books, of course. Read on an Apple device. 
© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

Under Pressure

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Lexus. Hummer. Mercedes. 300Z.  Think I’m at a car dealership?  Most dealerships I know wouldn’t have such a fine selection in one parking lot.
I’m in a college town, visiting at a student apartment complex.  Me and Ashton Cooper, my brand new Mini, are in town for a conference.  And I thought I had a fine ride.  Poor Ashton Cooper. He was so proud, and feels so out of place with all of these bigger luxury cars.  I tell him I’m proud of him and not to care what the other cars think.
As for me, I’m a range of emotions. Confused, appalled, amazed and yes, a bit jealous.  What are college undergrads doing driving such nice cars?  Might I add that none of these appear to be older models that have been passed down from parent to child?  They appear quite new.  Some still have paper plates. 
I’m sure the kids – and I hate to say it, but yes, they are kids – must need a nice ride to make up for the college living conditions.  You know, cinder block and wood shelves paired with an assortment of hand-me-down furniture.  One roommate brings the TV, one brings the microwave.  If you’re really fortunate, there’s a laundry hook-up in the apartment.  Extremely fortunate means one roommate actually has a washer and dryer to hook-up. Remember?
As I knock on the door of one of the units, I notice how nice the complex is.  Entering the apartment I’m stopped cold.  Whose dad purchased the 55” flat screen TV?  What’s this – there are flat screen TV’s in each bedroom? And each bedroom has a private on-suite bath? 
I step back outside to make sure I didn’t take a wrong turn and enter the Ritz Carlton. 
This place is unbelievable.  I’m told that this is not considered the nicest complex in town.  I’m also trying to figure out how I can move in.
The students plead their case.  “We’re under so much pressure. We’ve gotta have a nice place to live.” 
This is not my first semester, telling them to brace for a much lower standard of living once they’re on the own instead of living in a luxury apartment that came with all the furnishings. Rolling their eyes, they think I’m “old-school” and somewhat out of touch with the 21st century reality that is college academic life. 
LOL!  You don’t know snot, young ‘un. 
OK, so I didn’t really say that. But believe it or not, I do understand the kind of pressure you’re under. I was here, remember?
Research. Essays. Lab assignments. Projects. Exams.  All-nighters. Non-stop studying while living in an environment with non-stop partying.  Whew – college was tough; I remember it well.
Pressure packed days and weeks that led up to one KPI (key performance indicator) for the entire semester: GPA.  I still shudder when I think of it. 
Not the pressure; my GPA.  Undergrad was not my finest moment as a student.  Thank goodness I had the chance to redeem myself in grad school.
And there was the added pressure to determine a career path to choose.  Heaven forbid a mistake was made here. Life could be over. 
Yes, I’m painfully aware of the pressure. Years have passed since graduation and I still have the nightmare where I’m at college, it’s the end of the semester and suddenly I realize that I’ve never been to one of my classes.  Now I have to try and pass a final exam.  I wake up sweating every time I have this dream.
Kids, I’ve got news for you.  You haven’t experienced real pressure yet.
Real pressure happens once you enter the work force. No holiday breaks and no summer vacation. No option to choose between summer school or just working for some cash.
Real pressure also happens with a lay-off.  Losing your job is one of the most tense, pressure-packed situations a person can be in.  Not to mention emotional.  If you’re past 30 when a lay-off hits, you probably have a mortgage, maybe a family to think about.  This is not a situation for the faint of heart.  One wrong decision now affects those who depend on you too.
I’ve discovered that pressure never really goes away. It simply manifests itself in different ways. Now the pressure is on to find a job, one that we like and also pays enough to cover expenses.  Time is the enemy as those of us in lay-off limbo desperately search for a source of income during trying economic times.  Even if you’ve financially planned for a lay-off, the pressure is still there.  
How nice it would be if studying hard for a good grade would land a job in our lap.   
© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

It’s All About the Shoes

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Hi there! How in the world are you?  You look fabulous! Me? Oh, you’re too kind.  It’s been great catching up with you; let’s talk again later.
“Who was that?” Hubby asks.  “I have no idea”, I reply. 
Yep, it was high school reunion time.  That fun yet awkward situation where you feel like you’re in a room with a bunch of people you went to high school with, but you can’t quite recognize anyone.    
Yikes. This was going to be a tough night.
I kept hoping it was just poor lighting or that I needed new glasses or that it was because I hadn’t seen these people in quite some time.   After all, I know I look EXACTLY the same as I did in high school, right? Surely everyone else does too. 
Never mind that most of the guys had long hair when we were in high school.  And we women were each a mere 90 lbs soaking wet, back in the day.   Not to mention that all of us, men and women, had yet to meet Ms. Clairol or Mr. Grecian Formula.
I spent hours agonizing over what to wear.  You’d think this would be easy yet youthful insecurities started creeping in.  As any high school girl will tell you, if you so much as wear the wrong shoes, it’s over.  As usual, it’s all about the shoes.
“Hubby, do you like this outfit or this one?”  I ask.  “Uh, either look fine to me”, responds Hubby.  Sweet, I guess.    “Should I wear a dress or pants? Which shoes, the high heels or the flats?  What about earrings?”  I’m almost pleading with Hubby at this point; the party’s in an hour and I still have to pick up the cake. 
Hubby, in a desperate attempt to retreat to the living room to watch football, blurts out, “Why are you so concerned? It’s not like you have to impress anyone.”
Ohhh… those are the wrong words for a woman getting ready to attend her Xth high school reunion.  No, I’m not going to say how many years.  Let’s just say it’s been a few.
Deep down I know he’s right, although I’m not going to tell him that. Why am I so concerned about what others think of me?  Who am I so desperately trying to impress?  After all, I’ve enjoyed career success, traveled the world and married the man of my dreams.  Seems like that would be enough.  What am I worried about?
Memories come flooding in.  I enjoyed high school, although I didn’t consider myself to be in with the “popular” crowd.  I sort of stayed on the fringe of several crowds, with friends all over the place.  And boy was I shy!  Hard for my current friends to believe that of me, as I am definitely not shy now.
My BFF from high school is still my BFF, even though we live across town from each other.  I tease about being her “shadow” in high school.  You see, she was (and is) beautiful and very popular, always had a boyfriend.
I, on the other hand, was none of those.  I was – and in some ways still am – convinced that many people didn’t know my name except that I was “popular girls’” friend and locker-mate.    BFF insists this was not the case.  We’ll just have to agree to disagree here. 
Even if I wasn’t the most popular girl in the school, I had a great time.  We had a great class, and we remain very devoted to each other.  Probably more so than most high school classes.  Our experience was more “Happy Days” than “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”.
Back to the reunion.
Thank goodness someone in the group had enough sense to get name tags for the party – ones with our pictures from high school.  It was the only way we stood a chance of recognizing each other.
Walking in, I suddenly felt a safe feeling, as though I was visiting family.  Maybe long-lost family, but family just the same.  Warm smiles and hugs were all around.  With each new arrival, shouts and laughter rang out as we greeted each other. 
Gone were the cliques that were so evident in high school.  Jocks, nerds, ropers, long-hairs, band weenies, cheerleaders and all others were now together as one class remembering the great times.
We smiled politely as we tried to remember each others’ names without looking at the name tags.  We shared stories of family, children and friends. The conversations were lively, funny and sometimes surprising.
“How many children do you have?”  “Eighteen and counting” What???  At least I know what you’ve been doing since high school.  “And you? How are your children?”   “Ours are all married and we’ve got about a bazillion grandkids”.  Yikes.  For someone like me with only a four-legged daughter, I’m about to hyper-ventilate.
Memories were everywhere. “Remember when?” was heard over and over. Amazingly we remembered the words to our school song, which we sang together before the “awards” were given out.
Awards for “most children”, “married the longest”, “traveled the farthest” and “changed the least”. Personally, I think we ALL should have won for “changed the least”.  Ms. Clairol and Mr. Grecian Formula are the only ones that know otherwise.
Our group, together again, as tight as ever.  In fact I think we’ve gotten better with age. For the most part, the further away we get from high school the less need there is to impress.  We’ve all gained experience and maturity.  
I’m happy to be part of a high school class that remains so united after all these years.  And just in case you’re wondering, my shoes made all the difference.
© Tami Cannizzaro 2011 All Rights Reserved

Rookie Status

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What’s cool about being a blogger? Everything!  I get to write about what I want, when I want.  Totally different from any of my past writing experiences, such as college courses or writing press releases at work. 
Even cooler is getting to connect with fellow bloggers.  I just attended my first official blogger function.  A fun affair with twenty or so local bloggers at an event sponsored by the California Strawberry Commission.  Who knew such an organization existed? 
It was all very official.  Pre-printed name tags, including the name of our blog.  Representatives from the CA Strawberry Commission were on hand as well as author and guy-a-tician David Grotto to enlighten us about healthy eating. Especially eating strawberries, which I now know are a super-food.  Safe to say that I will be eating more chocolate covered strawberries now that I can consider them a “healthy” snack.
I must admit that I was a bit nervous about attending the event.  No qualms about my social skills or my ability to consume mass quantities of strawberries; my concern was about my credibility as a writer and blogger.
Stop worrying, I kept telling myself. These people are all just like you. They put on their mascara one eye at a time and probably type on a similar laptop.
With my head up, I entered the event.  Just be cool, I tell myself.  So far, so good. At least I passed the dress-code test, which is very important when you are in a group of women. 
Our hostess was wonderful, making sure I was introduced to the other bloggers.  We dined on dishes all created with strawberries; my favorite was the fish tacos with strawberry salsa.   Not to mention strawberry mojitos – yum!
Coming to the event I thought I was pretty good at my craft, even though I am still a newbie to the field of blogging.   As I listened to my colleagues talk, I found myself feeling as though I had “rookie” stamped on my forehead.
“I’ve been blogging since ‘04”, said one colleague.  Did blogging even exist in ’04, I’m thinking?  “I’ve got billions of followers. How many do you have?” Including my family?  “I use WordPress, how about you?” said another.  “Remember when we had to code in QBL#R! instead of HTML?”
Uh-oh.
Fear and panic crept in as I realized I have no idea what they’re talking about.  While I have my own URL I have yet to build it out. Mainly because I don’t have a clue about coding in HTML. I know what it is, but as my grades in computer science have shown, programming is not a core-competency of mine.
Questions raced through my mind.  Would these pros accept me? What if they discover I’ve only been at this for a short time – will I get shown to the door? Or worse yet, laughed at?
 My tactic? Try not to say too much. Maybe they won’t ask me anything technical.  If they do, I’ll use my PR skills to divert them to another subject. Or I’ll fill my mouth with strawberries to avoid answering.
Sigh – so hard for a social chatty-Cathy like me to be silent.
Good news is that my fellow bloggers were incredibly gracious and welcomed me to the fold.  After all, everyone has to start somewhere.
Isn’t that the same as searching for a new job?  We’re all going to find a new opportunity. And we may wonder if we’ll be accepted into the new company. 
If we are daring enough to try something new, possibly switching fields or hanging our own shingle, the fears can be more intense. 
I believe our response to trying something new speaks volumes about us.  Stepping out on a limb is tough. Yet I’ve found that the fear usually exceeds the actual experience.  We can all do it if we really want to. No obstacles are too big to go after our dreams.
While I’m still considered a rookie blogger and writer, I’m no longer afraid.  And I’m proud of myself that I took the leap of faith and stepped out of my comfort zone to try something new.  Not to mention that I really enjoy writing. I hope to connect again with the wonderful group that I met that night. This could be the start of something big.
Anyone else want to try something new? I double-dog dare you.

Military Precision

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Today I had the opportunity to witness a military operation.  I quite literally stumbled upon it. It was an organized effort like nothing I’d ever seen before.  I’m sure this particular battalion or company or whatever you call it had been training for months.
I thought I’d seen similar operations during my days at Texas A&M.  The Corps of Cadets would run precision drills through campus late in the day and if you were lucky enough to be in their path you would see them run by, singing strange songs. Heaven forbid you weren’t paying attention; you’d either have to join in the run or get run over.  
What I saw today is worthy of General MacArthur.  The unit was orchestrating up to 100 vehicles, 4 lines across, moving at a slow but steady pace.  Carefully placed traffic cones helped guide the vehicles to the right location.  Those in command walked in and out of the lines, speaking with drivers and guiding them in their next move. 
Walkie-talkies were in full use as each team member communicated updates to central command.  Hand signals were also being used. Occasionally a uniformed member would hand what appeared to be an instruction sheet to the driver of the vehicle.  It was hard to tell what they were saying, but it seemed like they were talking in code.  
Sounds of static could be heard as the uniformed officer barked orders into the walkie-talkie.  “That’s right; I got a couple of 4×4’s, animal style, a flying Dutchman, one fries, two drinks for car number 125. And make it snappy.” 
What was this strange operation?
You guessed it.  I was not at Ft. Hood or Camp Pendleton.  This was the opening of an In-N- Out Burger. 
Oh yeah, it needed this much organization.
For those of you who are fortunate enough to live in California, another In-N- Out is no big deal.  For those of us in Dallas, it’s HUGE.  We’ve been waiting for this for a long time.  We love our home-grown Whataburger, but IMHO there’s nothing quite like an In-N-Out burger, animal style, of course.
We parked a block away and walked over.  I’ve never been in such an organized crowd.  Waiting with the other burger-hungry fans, it was amazing to watch the drills executed around us.  At least 15 people cooking, prepping, passing out orders.  Several others on table clean-up. I lost track of the number of employees outside working the car lines. 
The mob was hungry and noisy but patiently waited their turn in line.  The order takers barked our requests like military drill sergeants.  The whole situation reminded me of a SNL skit, with John Belushi and Dan Akroyd yelling, “Cheeburger, cheeburger, chips, no Coke, Pepsi!”. 
We shared a table with strangers, all of us drawn by the force of a simple hamburger and fries. We just had to have one. And everyone had stories.  “We go to California each year and every time we eat at In-N-Out”.  “I used to eat them when I was in LA on business”.  “Last year in Phoenix, we spotted one as we were driving to the hotel and had to stop for a burger – and it was only 10:30 am!.”
I heard on the news that In-N-Out pays pretty well, more than minimum wage. And I bet you get to eat free too. 
Hmm…maybe I’ve found my next career opportunity.

Funeral for a Friend

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(Today is a departure from my usual humor. Bear with me; this means a lot to me.)
Recently I was shocked to learn that a long-time friend had passed away.  Opening the paper to the obituary section, his face jumped out at me and my heart fell. 
We had been friends for what seems like forever.  We were the kind of friends that may not speak regularly, sometimes communicating through Christmas cards alone.   But we were always there for each other.
He could make me laugh with his stories.  He came to my side when I was recovering from life-threatening illness. He was pivotal in helping my family when dad died.   Learning of his death rattled me to my core.
The visitation at the funeral home was difficult since I had no idea he had been sick.  Such a private individual, I’m sure he didn’t want anyone fussing over him.  Cancer is never a good thing, is it?
I needed to be there. To express my condolences to his life-partner and extended family.  I needed to be there for myself too, to understand what happened and say good-bye.
What breaks my heart the most is not learning that he suffered from cancer.  It was hearing that, like many of us, he had lost his job some time ago.  Always difficult for anyone.  It’s my understanding that in his final months and days, as he battled illness, he felt like a failure. Simply because he lost his job.
My fear is that there are many people who feel like a failure because of a job loss.                                Listen to me, people: you are not a failure. 
We are so much more than our jobs. While we know this deep down, it’s still a difficult concept for many of us to accept.  But please take a step back and relish your success: your friends, your family, your skills, your education, your health.  A job loss is insignificant in comparison.
If you know someone who’s lost their job, reach out to them.  Just in case they might be feeling less-than successful.  
I wish I had known that you were suffering, my friend.  I’ll miss you and your caring spirit. Rest in peace. 

My Car, My Think Tank

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Inspiration comes at the oddest times and in the strangest places.
First I should explain that my mind is one that seems to be in constant motion. I’m always thinking. Not necessarily lofty thoughts either – if that were the case I’m sure I would have made better grades in college physics.
It’s just that I’m usually thinking quickly about several things at the same time, moving from one thought to the next at lightning speed. This can be a communication issue when talking to my hubby.  He’s still pondering my question, “what shall we have for dinner”, while I’ve moved on to “the car needs gas”, “mom’s on her way over” and “let’s book the flights for vacation”.  Let me assure you that “chicken” is not the right answer to the vacation question. 
It’s not hubby’s fault. My mind moves faster than even I can process, which can be good but most the time it’s a nuisance.  I’ll have a fabulous idea but before I can truly think about it, my mind is on to something else.  And I’ve forgotten my fabulous idea.
This has been happening to me a lot lately.  Quite frankly, I’m getting tired of my lack of focus.  I want to sit at my desk, creative ideas flowing without forgetting them in a nanosecond.
Luckily I’m able to find calm, relaxing places that allow my mind to wander and the creativity just flows.  Bad news is these places are a bit unusual.
Take my car, for example. A VW New Beetle, complete with the bud vase and flowers, it’s a great source of inspiration for me.  Not sure whether it’s simply the look of the car, or perhaps I unknowingly purchased the premium model that emits creative energy when the engine is on.  Whatever it is, the Beetle has become a think-tank for me.
It never fails either. I’ll be driving down the road listening to Gaga, or U2 or whoever and creative ideas and thoughts just flow one after the other. It takes forever to get to my destination because I’m constantly pulling over to record my ideas so I won’t forget them.
Walking the dog can also be a good way to gather thoughts.  Just me and my pooch strolling in the neighborhood.  Listening to the sounds of nature and the cadence of Kylie’s trot, here come the creative ideas.  Embarrassing part is that I’ve noticed I talk to myself while I’m doing this, trying to keep track of all my thoughts. I’m sure the neighbors have written me off as the crazy person walking her dog and carrying a bag of poop.
Yet apparently for me, the absolute best time and place for creative thinking is on Sunday. In church. During the sermon.  How embarrassing! My minister is not going to like this. 
The lights are dim, the air is cool and I’ve got nowhere to go for a good 20 – 30 minutes.  It’s perfect!
I’m sure others sitting near me think I’m taking copious notes about the lesson. Nope, I’m frantically scribbling my ideas in the margin of the bulletin before my thoughts escape me.  There’s almost a rhythm here: listen, get creative idea, write notes about idea, listen again.

Except, of course, that I’m supposed to be listening intently to the great life lesson set before me each week. My sincere apologies to our wonderfully gifted minister. I really do hear your message. Maybe you’re a bit too inspirational?
While my ability to multi-task has served me well during my career, my busy mind is not so productive in this new phase of work when I’m trying to be creative and focused.   That requires one to be calm. If you’ve met me, I doubt “laid-back” and “calm” are words you use to describe me. 
I should be able to sit at my desk in our beautifully remodeled office and be inspired.  After all, we spent big bucks trying to make it an oasis for working at home.
What’s happening to me? Is this a product of the layoff, not having one big thing (work) to focus on while instead my mind tries to process multiple unrelated tasks?  After all, I’m not used to running a household and trying to build my business and trying to interview and work a part-time job at the same time.   Not to mention the other distractions around me, like laundry and swimming pool and TV.
Maybe this is just a phase I’m going through. Or maybe it’s one of the life lessons I was supposed to learn on Sunday.  Who knows? 
Just be patient with me if you see me walking the dog, talking to myself. I’m harmless, although I am carrying a loaded bag of poop.

Interviews and Oscars

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So I’m watching the Oscars right now. Not very interesting on a number of levels, mainly because I haven’t seen the nominated movies.  Yeah, yeah, I know – what do I do with my spare time?
The whole Oscar thing reminds me of interviewing.   First, how many times have some of these actors been nominated, yet they’ve never gone home with a trophy?  In interviewing terms, I’ve been nominated dozens of times in the past months. No golden statue for me either.
When the nomination does finally come in, then what?  I’m sure the actors get excited and nervous. Then they start thinking about what to wear (especially the women). And hopefully they prepare an acceptance speech, just in case.    
Unfortunately, some of the actors I’m seeing tonight haven’t practiced their acceptance speech.  How could they come to such an important event so unprepared?  Were they beaten down by past experiences, where they were nominated yet went home without the prize? 
I sort of understand where they’re coming from.  If you’re like me, a person in career transition, you’ve gone on multiple interviews only to never hear from the company again.   And how many of us have accepted an interview even though we’re not certain it’s the right job?   I’ll admit that I’ve done it.  In those instances I have to pull out all the stops, put my game face on, memorize my lines, and remember to thank those who gave me the opportunity. 
Because going in to an interview is kind of like the Oscars: in order to get the job, we have to put on an academy-award winning performance.   In order to get the trophy, we have to be prepared.
Easier said than done, at least for me.  I have to focus all my energy on the interview, review my notes, and not worry about whether I’ll receive an offer.  I have to forget all those other interviews where I came home without the trophy – this time, I could actually win.  My passion and personal character need to shine through the academy-award winning performance so the interviewer can see the ‘real’ me. The acceptance speech can come later.
My hunch is that the best acceptance speeches are those in which the actor has reviewed their notes, and prepared at least an outline even though they aren’t sure they’re going to win.  Then they can deliver yet another academy-award winning performance, just like the one that got them nominated in the first place.
The show is about half-way through and I still think this particular Oscar show is boring.  But it has reminded me to review my notes, practice my lines and get ready for my close-up. 
Who knows? Maybe this time – the umpteenth time I’ve been nominated – I’ll be asked to give an acceptance speech. And I want to be ready.

I’ve Met the Future

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There they were, staring at me. All 35 of them, notebooks open, pens poised, waiting for me to say something so smart, so encouraging, that it would forever change their lives. 
Yeah, right – who do they think I am? 
As each entered the room, they stole glances at the “guest”. Was it OK to say hi to me?  Or should they simply find a seat and remain silent?  A few smiles dotted the room here and there.  Little did they know that I was the one sweating.  Seriously, I think I was sweating bullets. Deodorant failure was imminent.
Who do they think I am? Apparently some uber-important person who took time to enter their world for a few hours.  Caught between being embarrassed and having the feeling of a rock-god, I must admit that it was fun to feel important. Even for a brief period of time.
Who am I, really?  I’m a guest lecturer at Texas A&M, my alma mater.  A volunteer, if you will.  This opportunity started out some years ago as simply my way of giving back to the university that means so much to me, through different mentoring opportunities, presentations, panel discussions, etc.  The past few years I’ve been fortunate to serve as a guest lecturer in a graduate marketing class.  What an amazing opportunity – something that I feel fortunate to have, and one that I take very seriously.  
And as I’ve said before, volunteering is one of the benefits of having some extra time. You know, from the lay-off.
They tell me that I’m good at this, that the students get something useful from my presentations and the discussions we have. Guess I do alright, since they keep asking me to come back.  Funny thing is I’m the one who is really getting the benefit here.
After all, it hardly seems like I have anything to share that would be of importance to these incredibly gifted minds. They are students at the best university anywhere (in my humble alumni opinion), with amazing faculty and incredible resources at their fingertips. What could I possibly have to share that would help them achieve their goals? 
Apparently years of work experience count for something other than a paycheck and paying Uncle Sam. OK, it counts for A LOT.
Think about it – when you were a student, wouldn’t you have loved access to someone working in your field of study?  Someone who would tell you how it really is out in the work world, a person who would help you connect the dots between course work and actually working at the job? Someone who could help you think outside of what you know,  brainstorm ways to leverage your degree and possibly serve as an occasional mentor?
To me, marketing and PR is just what I do. Nothing special. To the students, it’s the ‘real deal’ and sharing my experiences helps them break out of the academia for a bit to see that opportunities are out there for them – tons of opportunities – if they will just look.
Laid off or not, I challenge you to make time to volunteer. Doesn’t have to be with students – pick something that interests you.  If you’re a marketer, help a non-profit.  An engineer with a gift for all things mechanical? Help a neighbor fix something in the house.  Teach. Talk. Share. Do. Be present for others.  Your experience definitely counts for something, and the feeling you get from helping is unbelievable.
I’ve met the future and they stared back at me. Boy, is the future bright.