It’s hard to believe that in a few days it’s been 10 months since I got laid off at Stitch Fix. It’s shocking to me– in a good way– that my business is growing and I seem to be making it. But I do often ask myself: How do I keep attracting bread-and-butter clients? There always seems to be one client that pays my mortgage, and I am very grateful for that. I’m grateful for the word-of-mouth growth, both locally and on the internet. I’m grateful for the opportunity to give workshops and network and help others achieve their dreams.
But there’s a lot of steps to running a business and I’m getting close to the point where I need to make some decisions about how to run and how to expand my business. So, I looked into some SCORE workshops and requested a SCORE mentor.
“SCORE is the nation’s largest network of volunteer, expert business mentors, with 10,000 volunteers serving all 50 U.S. states and territories. Since its founding in 1964 as a resource partner for the U.S. Small Business Administration, SCORE has helped more than 11 million current and aspiring entrepreneurs start, grow or successfully exit a business through mentoring, resources and education. Reach out to your local chapter, SCORE Lehigh Valley, today!”
In the Lehigh Valley, Northampton Community College (at its Fowler Southside Center in Bethlehem) hosts SCORE and other entrepreneurial material. They host One Million Cups, another group for entrepreneurs that I have attended, and they offer a small business management and entrepreneurial certificate which I would love to earn (it’s only $1,600).
But I had my first meeting with my SCORE mentor today, and I’m not going to say much about the mentor himself because I didn’t ask permission to talk about him in the wide world of the Internet, but I wanted to say it’s so powerful to tell a stranger your hopes and dreams. It’s a safe place, so hopefully that stranger won’t tell you you’re an idiot doing everything wrong. But I suppose a good mentor would offer advice to make you less of an idiot.
Don’t worry– my mentor did not tell me I’m an idiot.
He was very kind, and he listened well, even when my Goffin’s cockatoo Nala insisted that she needed to attend the meeting. And he’s going to send me a template to formalize my business plan. Congratulations, he said, for getting your business off the ground.
Now, if you know me, you know I can do things. I can do big things. I can do hard things. I can do thinking things. But sometimes, I don’t know where to start. Sometimes, I feel a little overwhelmed and paralyzed.
So I told my mentor– I probably don’t even know what my needs are. If you point me in a direction and hold me accountable, I’ll figure out the details. He wants me to make my formal business plan to give me focus. And he pointed out four areas to ponder, all of which I have thought about but the answers don’t lie in one guiding document. And I have written “business plan” on my to-do list just about every week since the start of the year.
Here are the four areas my mentor wants me to consider:
What is my service? Who are my clients? Who isn’t? What can I do? What do I want to do?
What are the future goals for my business? My business is in its first generation, but as it evolves, where do I want it to go? What do I want to do longterm? What do I want to stop doing?
What is my preferred revenue model? Right now I have clients who hire me hourly, traditional publishing clients, and clients who hire me to write. How do I want to make money?
So I had two professional meetings today— both regarding professional opportunities. One was a second interview for a niche professional journal, a publisher and sales position.
The other led me to Lehighton, to the Times-News building where I met with some staff members about the possibility of doing some copy editing work for them.
Regardless of how either of these opportunities work out, I had a great day talking to committee people in print media, an industry that has a lot of issues to overcome every day.
But talking to these professionals at these polar opposites of publications, that reminded me of my own passions and what it’s like to connect with others who share that.
Plus…
I love Palmerton, the coal regions and rural post-industrial Pennsylvania.
A good portion of what I am going to write today will probably reappear in a smoother format over on the Parisian Phoenix Publishing page. (ParisianPhoenix.com) My brain is swirling. My frustration tolerance is low. Anxiety is taking advantage of point one and point two to paralyze my concentration.
These are growing pains. These are the realities that accompany change and even more so, success.
Cocktail contemplations
Last night, I really would have loved a cold beer to sit and sip while I pondered the events of the last few days– but my frugal self would not justify spending money on something so frivolous nor did I want to put on shoes. So I opted to make a cocktail of whatever we had in the house. We had grenadine (the kind with alcohol), creme de menthe and creme de cacoa, because a few weeks ago I had a craving for a grasshopper. That was short-lived. Since then, my occasional cocktail has been a creme de cacao and Coke Zero, because who doesn’t appreciate a chocolate Coke?
Last night I opted to skip the mixer and head toward “Dirty Girl Scout” territory, but I didn’t measure so my pour led to slightly chocolatey mint drink.
Why did I desire a cocktail last night? Because…
Sex Down South Atlanta
I was sitting in my reading chair, hoping to capitalize on the cool evening breeze and spend some time with my cats and my naughty Goffin’s cockatoo. I need to proofread McKenna Graf’s upcoming poetry book, review Larry Sceurman’s new middle-grade dragon story, and somehow manage to not only score some time for my ghostwriting client, but also prepare for the upcoming comic con in Phillipsburg and finish my workshop for Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group.
Let’s be honest. Comic con is a Friday problem, and this was Wednesday. GLVWG is a Sunday problem, and again this is Wednesday. But the other stuff was/is yesterday/today problems.
I receive an email from the organizers of Sex Down South Atlanta. It talked about the 200+ presenters that proposed workshops and they were sorry they could not accept them all. They told us all we could have a discount code to come to the conference and shared the list of accepted workshops.
Now, a friend of mine had proposed a workshop and I was her accountability partner for getting the proposal in. At the last minute she told me to enter a proposal and I laughed– because what do I have to offer at a big sex conference? She said they had a category for writing and erotica.
So, I entered a proposal.
I opened the file attached to the email last night to see if my friend’s workshop was selected. I did not see it. I scroll through the list and reach #31 and see: Explore Your Fantasies and Write Your Own Erotica, and I think, that sounds like a nice offering. As I finish the sentence, my jaw drops to the floor. It reads: Explore Your Fantasies and Write Your Own Erotica with Angel.
My workshop description
Which means the acceptances and the rejections went out in the same email. My proposal was accepted.
I went through my files looking for the proposal and sighed with relief that 1. I have it and 2. It’s reasonable. I spent the rest of the evening talking with friends. Because I’m shocked. And excited. And wondering how the heck I am going to pull off traveling to Atlanta. But that’s a future problem.
So that’s why I needed a cocktail and why my brain is even more overextended and fried than usual.
Today I had the pleasure of hanging out with one of the Parisian Phoenix authors in the morning and to go on a job interview this afternoon.
Both of these activities reminded me of the different types of intelligence and social interactions people have.
I have been working hard with my freelance clients and working on building the presence of Parisian Phoenix that I had forgotten that sometimes it just feels good to interact with new humans and to help people already in one’s circle with situations I have faced or thought about before.
I was not necessarily energetic or feeling like I was putting my best food forward before the job interview today, despite having a stellar morning with someone I respect and enjoy. Even now, I feel a little exhausted and out of sorts.
Maybe because I am learning to take care of myself in a new type of professional landscape.
The interview went very well, and even if I am not their final hire, I gave them some ideas that they can use. And the interview reminded me that I have more knowledge and experience than I sometimes think. Sometimes we are ready for the next adventure and have all the necessary skills without having scaled that exact mountain.
And sometimes it just feels good to have conversations with new people.
And when you are me, it always feels good to take photos of trucks and industrial scenes and blue sky.
Today I had a lovely day with the chiropractor, then the dentist (then an iced coffee at Panera) and email exchanges with my OVR counselor.
So this will be a discussion of health, disability and my job search. I’m at the midpoint of my unemployment benefits and I’m freaking out a little.
Let’s back up…
I have only been visiting my beloved chiropractor (who used to be a physical therapist) Nicole Jenson of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center every three weeks or so, in part because without the physical labor of my warehouse job and without any complications in my gait I have not needed her. (And that’s kind of great because I also have terrible health insurance right now and no job.)
But today I went to see her, and she was very relieved to hear that my condition has been good and I have not had a fall since Sept. 30. And this was my second visit in a row with no symptoms to report. She was also very impressed with my progress with my fitness and strength coach Andrew at Apex Training. He has been pushing me hard with the weights and the core exercises all because of some pre-New Year’s resolutions we made at the gym.
Get weight under 150 (oh, how I was so close and failed so hard. I got down to 156 and stress ate my way to a new high)
Bench press 100 pounds (and I’m at 95 with more than a week to go)
Squat 150 pounds (Andrew sneaked this one in, and I have no idea if I’m near it)
Plank for 2 minutes (personal best currently at 1:10)
A dear friend pointed out that some of my exercise-induced asthma symptoms might actually be connected to caffeine intake, and Nicole definitely concurred that I needed to watch that also because of my balance issues.
And I’m still doing really well with balance and walking thanks to Andrew’s “lead with the knees” guidance.
After leaving Nicole’s, I headed to my six-month check up at the dentist. My dentist recently sold her practice– and she’s been my dentist for almost 35 years– but luckily the new dentist seems personable, smart and efficient. The staff complimented me on taking care of my beautiful teeth, to which I laughed and said, “really, let’s thank genetics because my dental habits are not what they once were.”
Then, at 1 p.m., I grabbed a KIND breakfast bar out of my bag for breakfast and headed through the Panera drive-through for an iced coffee. They offered a $3 per month subscription to their unlimited sip club for three months, and I love Panera’s iced coffee. So I treated myself. I had a meeting at Panera with the Echo City Team on Friday and I subscribed Friday a.m. I have since gone two more times.
By the time I got home, I had an email waiting from my OVR counselor. I decided that since I have some disability-related concerns about finding the right job for my next move, I would apply for assistance from the Office of Vocational Rehab. That way, the state knows I am doing everything I can to find a job. I spoke with my counselor on the phone yesterday, and had her chuckling. She said I am not her typical client, and in a way, it sounded like she was intrigued by seeing what she could do for me.
I compiled all the initial paperwork, and gave her another round today based on her subsequent requests. She’s had some interesting ideas on what her office might be able to do.
Then tonight at the gym, I was doing dumbbell rows with a 40-pound dumbbell and doing incline presses with a 35-pound dumbbell in each hand.
Earlier this week, I had an interview with the owner of a doggie daycare/boarding facility about a potential job. I’m striking out with some of my professional interviews, and perhaps they can sense that I really don’t want to return to full-time work. Ideally. I’d like to recruit more editorial clients and focus on Parisian Phoenix Publishing. A part-time job would give me the chance to do that, and provide some stability.
The dog thing happened by accident. I saw it on Indeed and figured “Why the Hell Not?” I’m not the dog-whisperer like The Teenager, but dogs usually like me. And between mothering and petsitting and fostering I have cared for kittens, cats, dogs, rats, parakeets, parrots (this includes Nala and a Senegal), rabbits, various lizards, hermit crabs, snakes, chickens and horses.
And I’ve medicated many of those creatures.
During the original interview, the cleanliness of the place impressed me. It didn’t smell like dog, and it didn’t smell like bleach or harsh chemicals. The facility wasn’t noisy. And there were many varieties of kennels and rooms and play areas for the dogs.
The owner invited me back for a second “working” interview today, so I got to learn more about the ins-and-outs and I got to help with private play for several of the dogs. I caught one larger dog (about the same size and build as our own F. Bean Barker) that got away from the caretaker because he didn’t want to stay in his room. I noticed some expired vaccines on dogs who applied to come in for an evaluation. I made friends with a miniature poodle with red hair that usually didn’t like anybody. I hosed off artificial turf.
In other news, I also followed up on a lead I learned about last night about an office position, part-time, in downtown Bethlehem.
I am trying to capitalize on skills other than food service, as I’d like my resume to follow my eclectic and diverse involvements so keeping it professional or doing more in animal care/welfare seems right for this phase.
I hate the nerves of getting dressed, trying not to spill coffee on myself, picking shoes that I won’t trip over, worrying about traffic or getting lost or sticking my foot in my mouth.
But on the good ones…
I leave feeling empowered, confident and excited. Regardless of whether the employer decides to hire you or not, a good job interview has the person in the chair thinking about their own skills, their history, their past. And if it’s a good company, and a good interview, a person can leave understanding more about their own value and with a clearer idea of self-worth.
Even if the company feels wrong– if you leave an interview with a better concept of what you want that is valuable. Of you see red flags and think “oh no, not working there,” that’s a sign you’re getting more sure-footed in your decision-making.
But sometimes you leave thinking you just had a good conversation with some new people, and you heard statements come out of your mouth that surprised you with their succinctness and relevance.
Those are the days you have to think, “Wow. Maybe I belong here.”
Those are the days it’s also easy to get discouraged when they say no, but it’s important to remember that culture and fit plays a very important role in choosing new employees and that there’s always a lot of people looking for jobs. So it might not be something you did.
Keep going, my friends, keep going.
And in case you are interested, I very much felt like I belonged when I went to the interview today. No doubt in my mind that I could do the job, do well at it, and grow as the opportunities came. We’ll see what happens. I wore a Calvin Klein sheath, sleeveless, very pink, princess seams, high neck, and black cowboy boots. Bold choice perhaps.
In roughly nine weeks, I will lose my job. I have been with Stitch Fix more than 2.5 years, and in that time, the people I have worked with have allowed me to grow, grieve, learn and be who I am.
And I thought I was holding up well against the stress of losing my job, with more debt than savings thanks to some life situations and my recent medical issues. But when you receive the email that lists your personal separation date, that makes it real.
September 15. Some of my friends are looking at a week before, another a week after. One person I know with 2 more years of tenure with the company has a Friday October 13th separation date. I am sooo jealous, primarily because it’s the perfect day to lose your job. But even beyond that– you could spend the whole weekend watching horror movies to commemorate the event.
Right now I am stunned. I haven’t read the copious amounts of paperwork. I’m not ready. I’m just going to be sad. It was a hard, hot day and my body didn’t want to cooperate. Luckily, Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center could make my feet and legs do feet and legs things.
Meanwhile, if anyone needs any projects done by an awesome writer and editor, get in touch.
I’m a little glad The Teenager drank all the soda in the house, now there’s not even a splash of Fresca left for me to use as a mixer for the tequila or rum.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
I slept in today (5 a.m.), finished editing Julian Costa’s upcoming book, and starting writing a new memoir that I’m working on for a new Parisian Phoenix author.
Apparently there are Canadian wildfires causing smoky air quality in our region. Which logistically doesn’t make sense.
I took my car over to the collision center for a new bumper, which I’m told could take up to a week and a half. The Teenager drove me to work after, and I think I arrived at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy warehouse by 10:10 a.m.
But when I walked in the building– from the moment I arrived– things felt wrong. And when I made it into the door to the main breakroom, I knew there was bad news afoot. Very bad news. The room felt dark. It was crammed with all of us. And I heard the door to “P&C” open (People & Culture, that’s the politically correct term for HR) and one of our outbound managers was there. She’s one of the day people. But I had to have answers, because even she seemed solemn. And she always has a smile.
“Did you just get here?” she asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
She motioned me into the vestibule. “There’s no easy way to say this, and I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from [our building manager] but the Bizzy is closing in October.”
“So,” I replied, “should I go clock in?”
She nodded.
I crept through the breakroom. Some people were sobbing, associates and leaders alike. Some of the toughest people I’ve known were fighting tears. Some people went home. My direct supervisor had red eyes and am expression that looked like someone had knocked the air out of his lungs.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’ll be okay,” he said, unconvincingly.
“You look so sad,” I said. “I feel like I should hug you.”
“You can hug me,” he said.
I gave him a tight embrace.
We were told that we will get our individual separation plans next week. Those who stay until the end will get severance. The Dallas facility– the Dizzy Hizzy– will close a few months after ours. The Bizzy opened seven years ago, and yesterday it was announced that we won the network competition. This is one hell of a prize. Our warehouse is the smallest in the network, cramming merchandise in a space half the size of the newer buildings. Our lease expires this year, so what we gain for the bottom line in shipping rates, we must not have the flexibility of the newer spaces.
I’ve loved my job at Stitch Fix. I love many of my work colleagues. I appreciate how much the company does to keep our health insurance rates low and our other benefits perky.
But this is a blow.
I think of the supervisor waiting for major surgery. The people close to retirement. The couples where both parties work at Stitch Fix. The pregnant women.
I think of myself, my service dog, my financial worries, my disability, my mental health, my future. I haven’t recouped enough of my losses from my recent health scare and hospital stay to approach this with security.
And Louise is getting adopted this weekend. It may be time to give up Touch of Grey and Canyon to other fosters who can afford them.
I have four months to figure out how to make Parisian Phoenix solvent– or face another transition to another job.
I returned to work today, after a month and two days away from the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy.
My blood pressure started normal– which has been unusual– so I almost didn’t have my morning coffee. But it wasn’t quite 5 a.m. and I thought that I should find out how much caffeine does impact my blood pressure.
I went for my blood test, and my phlebotomist asked questions about working for Stitch Fix, and when I answered them, she initiated a conversation about how striving for a career isn’t as beneficial as we all once believed. She pointed to the medical industry. “It’s not easy. Everyone’s burnt out.”
I’ve said for years that I’m tired of the stress and I’m tired of an employer benefiting from my creative energy. I told her about my little side business and she nodded knowingly.
When I arrived at work, I found my name on the morning head count and went to find my table. My usual table. My boss stopped me and said he thought they changed my table, which another supervisor confirmed, but then someone was at the new table, so I was sent to my regular table.
“Welcome back,” she said. “Some things never change.”
“Well,” I replied, “they did paint the bathroom.”
Much to my surprise, they raised my table to the height I requested so that was amazing. And Southern Candy was across the aisle from me!
My entire day was delightful. It turned out the Bizzy was celebrating its 7th anniversary with a birthday party, pizza and cupcakes. The team got new, vibrant tie-dyed t-shirts and wore them for photographs. A lead brought one to me and I put it on over my existing t-shirt to join the crew.
I made more than 100% on my numbers, which no one expected me to do, and I was pretty proud of that until one little five minute interaction with someone who was “dealing with the rejects.” Now, I’ve had interactions with this person before and it’s the one person in the whole warehouse who lacks diplomacy in her people skills.
And the funny part of what I’m about to type is that in my previous interaction with her, about six months ago, her complaints about my work were quite similar.
She tossed the box on my table. She might have dropped it, but it seemed like she was throwing it with emphasis.
“I’ve had to deal with six of your rejects today,” she said.
I was embarrassed, and running through everything I might have done six times. I’d completed 100 boxes at this point.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Let me see.”
She moves aside and points dramatically at the fix. “Your sticker is off center.”
“I can redo it,” I said and reached for the package.
“I’ll rewrap it,” she snapped at me.
“I’ll be more careful,” I said. “But it’s my first day back today, so I must have turned it and not noticed that it was off center.”
“Well, you have to go slower.”
“If you see anything else I need to be aware of, please let me know,” I said.
And she left.
I don’t like the way she handled the interaction. As a figure in a position of authority, she did not have to wait until six of my boxes had such a rookie mistake to mention it to me. Maybe, if she’d mentioned it at box three, she wouldn’t have been so annoyed with me. I know why it happened– and why I didn’t notice– and I spent the rest of my day being ornery about my sticker placement.
I don’t mind feedback. I love being told how I’m doing. Here’s another way she could have approached it: “Hey, Angel, I’ve been fixing rejects today and several of yours have had off center stickers. Can you address that?”
Angel Ackerman 