14.8.11

Time For A Change

Ok, here it goes. My first ever blog post. The mere thought of this has kept me paralyzed with fear for weeks. Funny, considering there is absolutely nothing riding on this. Nothing. I’ll be buying my one faithful follower a latte for her review, other than that, it’s just a novel starting place for a new journal. So, for this first post, I’d like to start by giving a smidge of information about me and what brought me to this point. 
I’m 30 (all right...almost 32), single, freshly relocated back to Oregon...and most fun of all...a bit crazy. I’ve had more than my fair share of jobs, everything from tree farm worker to nanny. Sales to retail, and have even occupied my own three walled cubicle in a matrix of other worker bees. Currently, I’m a certified veterinary technician. I’ve been in Veterinary medicine for the past eight years, but couldn’t make any promises as to this being my final career. 
In summary, this is just the beginning. The beginning of the journey to find myself. And I think you sometimes have to take a good look back and around...to really figure out where you are today and where you are headed. A promise of Pulitzer prize winning writing...is one I cannot make. But I can promise an eventful, at times hysterical-albeit with laughter or tears, look at what it takes to truly discover yourself and the world around you at thirty (something).
July of last year I decided to make a radical change. Embark on the solo right of passage known to many as “finding themselves”. I had awoken one day to find my current situation quite drab, uneventful and stagnate at best. It was most definitely time for a change, time to hit the reset button on my environment, employment, attitude, company I kept and my perspective. I had a gut feeling that change was not optional, but required, a feeling so strong I had to choice but to follow it. I had plans of grandeur, I’d write a new chapter of seismic proportion...this plan didn’t include barely surviving the apocalyptic nightmare it turned out to be. Anyway, by October of that year, I was exiting a tiny plane into the hot, humid air of the Caribbean. Feeling the heat of the tarmac through my shoes and the scorch of a sun so close on my face. With legs trembling from excitement, fear and jet lag; I made my way into the Cyril E. King airport of St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands with Zipper, my tiny best friend and canine travel companion in tow. I had accepted a position as a veterinary technician with one of the three small animal clinics on island, and was ready to start advocating for pets and focusing on my larger goals all the while surrounded by palm trees, white sandy beaches and the neon blue ocean. Ready to find myself, I was full of optimism and thought this island would be a great place to do it. 
What I didn’t know, is that St. Thomas wouldn’t BE the chapter as much as it would be a catapult. A starting place for this journey of self discovery. While I knew veterinary medicine would be different in the Caribbean, sub par to all I have known, I made sure to keep an open mind. Believing that they would practice the best medicine with the tools, technology and staff that was available. What I didn’t know, is that I had just accepted employment with quite possibly the worlds most cantankerous and crusty veterinarian still in practice. Time moved painfully slow as I quickly discovered that the only real duties I was entrusted with were re-sterilizing syringes that must have been decades old and picking freshly boiled chicken off the carcass for the in hospital patients. Day after day drug by while I dodged the vulgar verbal bullets of my new employer. Realizing this job was not conducive to my goals, let alone sanity, I jumped ship in hopes of less abusive employment. The cruel and unusual punishment of this job lasted just over two months, and I went on to make my island living with several other part time jobs. But, more on St. Trauma (I mean St. Thomas) later, for now let me get you up to speed. Said catapult landed me right back where I started, nearly seven months later, in Oregon. Only this time, I was jobless, hopeless, tired, beat down...a veritable grab bag of emotions. However, I was remarkably tan (for a pacific northwestern Irish girl that is). I had literally sold everything I owned, winter coats included, to make this pivotal move to the Caribbean. So upon my reentry into the real world, I had nothing. Nothing but an ever faithful pooch, three suitcases full of sand covered and salt water stained clothing, two or three friends that anticipated my return, a chest full of heart ache and broken dreams and thankfully, a set of parents who graciously accepted me with open arms...and approximately half of a spare bedroom.
So the real chapter writing starts here. Now I have no plan, I have to improv. Most importantly, I need to come up with something constructive and witty to say to people when they ask me what my plan is! Something that says, “I am totally in control of this situation”. That...was too much work. I stayed in bed. For a long time. I had one veterinary interview that held potential, but unfortunately it also had a creepy  air about the place. I passed. And so did the weeks. Weeks and weeks of nothing...and the Lifetime Movie Network. Finally, a hit. I turned on my parents DVR (to record all the Lifetime Movies I was about to miss of course) and took a short break to “work” for a convicted felon (unbeknownst to me I assure you) selling fake wellness plans to veterinary clinics. That lasted less than two weeks before I had to call it quits. This boss was quickly turning out to be as crazy as my last. Shady and secretive about the details of his company, but a smooth talker. So smooth in fact, that he had me absolutely convinced this “job” was a real deal...and all I had to do was “sell, sell, sell”. The details that I was asking for would come later, he said. “Two more days”, his most famous line. Obviously later, after my resignation, I found out about the above mentioned details concerning his character and work ethics. Thank god I never actually made any wellness plan sales, I tremor at the thought of the mess I would have been into. All that said, it was quite hysterical to see his mug shot on a popular veterinary website, calling him out on his unethical behaviors, several weeks after I quit.
So back to the couch I went. Depression compounded by yet another failure. HGTV was my poison of choice this time around. Although a permanent indentation of my ass still occupies my parents sofa directly across, front and center, from the television...I’m confident that I can create my entire next apartment out of tin foil, used egg cartons, a few great Goodwill finds and one can of spray paint. My resume would take me two weeks to revamp. I figure I rewrote it at the rate of approximately two sentences per day. Why rush? I wanted it to be perfect. And then, it started to rain. Two job offers, immediately after the republication of my work history. Perfect! But, wait...now I had a choice. I have never had a choice before. This was hard. Way more difficult that I thought it would be. Two veterinary practices on opposite ends of the spectrum. In the city; in the county. High tech; modest. Thirty plus employees; three. How was I going to decide? I wasn’t, my gut was. Even after the St. Thomas fiasco, I still had enough trust in instinct to go with my gut. So I did. I bought a Carhartt travel coffee mug and took the job in the country. 
I couldn’t be more happy that I did! I honestly didn’t know veterinary medicine could feel like this following my most recent experience. Maybe I’m just looking at things through a fresh set of eyes, after witnessing the atrocity of veterinary medicine on the island. I’m not sure. But either way, it’s amazing. My boss is one of the sweetest women I have ever met. I have seen her kiss every one of her patients (except for a bouncy boxer or a disgruntled declawed cat) on the head and tell them she loves them during their physical exam. And you know what, I believe her. I can see it on her face. In the way she cares for these pets and speaks with their owners. It’s amazing, and so heartwarming. When I returned home, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to continue with veterinary medicine, but I am so glad that I gave it another chance. My passion for the field has been restored. I feel like I am a part of something bigger than myself, and am contributing to the greater good. I’m back in business, saving the world...one dog (and cat) at a time! 

4 comments:

  1. You can say that worked, and worked hard to get where you are today.... I'm glad that you have finally found a place where you can save one dog (and cat) at a time, as well as feeling passionate about the job your doing..... Passion in any job is a great asset indeed....

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am looking forward to future postings..This was a necessary venture to put your skills out there for the world to see!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I Love your writing Brandy! You could be the modern-woman version of James Herriot! And by-God lady, if you haven't read him you need to like now! He's right up your storytelling alley - I am going to make you my morning coffee read, so don't let me down!

    ReplyDelete
  4. inspirationsetmefree:
    Oh goodie! My first "fan" that's not on the latte pay roll for their review?! *blushes* Thank you so much, really. I have plenty more to say...so hopefully, I will not let you down. Thanks again for your support! B

    ReplyDelete