So I just did something I'm not proud of (no fat girl references), like I made a deal with the Devil's helper. I called my Uncle Jack. He's a nice man, I'm sure. We aren't what anyone would call buddy-buddy. But the call had to be made.
Allow me to explain Uncle Jack as I know him-Yuppie. In my family. He is my Pops older brother. 6 kids in Pops family, Uncle Jack is the oldest, Pops the youngest. Everyone else is alive, except for Pops. I don't have a lot of great stories about my Uncle. He graduated from Boston College and has been a yuppie ever since. Suffice to say, we aren't bestest of friends, and I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him, the last time being Pops' wake. But he's done well for himself in business, and knows his way around a board room.
So why call him? Easy-I haven't had a job since August, and wanted a fresh pair of eyes on my way of doing things. I spoke with him for a grand total of 5 minutes, and he wants to see my resume. I'll be sending it out tomorrow (via snailmail...really?) and should hear something next week, maybe even before I fly out to Boston.
Oh, the feeling of trepidation? He's the last person I wanted to ask for help. The last. Really. But I'm out of ideas right now. And as twisted as this is going to come off, never doubt the power of guilt, because when Pops passed, Uncle Jack was impacted. I'm not looking for a handout, just a new set of eyes and an idea if I'm on the right track or if I'm not how to get there.
This is not bad news, or even anything remotely bad. But we've all done something we don't feel exactly right about. I don't want any money, I have enough to get by. But I'm staring at a certain career path I want, and the doors aren't opening. Maybe you don't get certain places without help, and that's all I'm asking for.
Hope Monday went okay for you....
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