12/17/12

12/15/12

When the conversation about getting bonuses came up a few weeks ago, I remember thinking, “I’ll be so happy to receive at least $500.”

Wrong, guess again.

 My sense of propriety prevents me from divulging the actual amount I received but it was enough to send me to the ladies’ room and have a tear-filled moment. It was enough to pay one month’s rent and have some left over to party. It’s the biggest bonus check I’ve ever seen in my life, before this bonus check, the biggest bonus I’ve ever seen in my life is $200. This bonus check is a grandma bonus check.

A part of me wants to feel bad about this abundance, but there’s another part of me that’s been working myself to death in the same industry for 10 years for almost no pay. I wonder if overpaid CEO’s ever feel bad how much money they make. This is such a strong pattern in my life—I get a surprise check (although, nothing in life is really a surprise, as I’ve found the older I get) and I get such a pain in my gut over the guilt off my good fortune. Maybe it has to do with growing up in a third world country—no matter where you turn, so many starving, poor people everywhere.

I have to remind myself this is a natural and normal accounting of my deeds this past year. I work myself to death, literally, in all aspects of my life. The bonus check is just a reminder of how hard I’ve worked all year, including my unpaid internship.

Already I’m thinking of sharing my graces. Not that I don’t already do pretty much every day of my life. I don’t know how I find any guilt in fair compensation for my hard work, but I do.

12/17/12

Yesterday I spent the better half of the day, sitting in a room with women who are vying for the same job as I do. A rather eclectic bunch—I noticed, and I also noticed how much older I seemed compared to the rest of them. I want to say its age, but none of them are that much younger than me. For sure, I’ve lost that awkward giggly-ness of the younger set, and I tend to speak more assuredly these days. Another thing that set me apart is I was dressed better than the interviewees—I almost wished I had dressed down.

Really, I feel older and wiser. I interviewed twice for a mega STEM company, I interviewed with Harvard MBA-ers, I had sold a house, I demanded a raise and promotion at my current job, and I’ve fought hard for scholarships. I wish I could tell the crying Ruzielle back in February that being turned down for the job she really wanted to get means bigger, better doors will open up one after the other.