VCarr's Parents Do A Little Dance….

I sent the email. I signed the contract and have notified my nearest and dearest. And this is what resulted… 

My parents burst into never before seen singing and dancing

My mother was at the kitchen sink doing dishes, her hands in yellow gloves dripping with soapy water. My father stood in the doorway in a white t-shirt and sweat pants.   Apparently some genetic switch was flipped when they heard the news (for the 20th time) because simultaneously, the two began to sway to an unknown tune that only parents can hear; a tune that signals the last of their children is leaving the nest. I don’t know quite how to describe it, but my mother and father balled their little fists, threw their arms out in front of them in a rapid circular motion, turned their eyes to heaven and… what shall I call it… danced like I’d never seen!  All this while chanting “Go VCarr! Go VCarr!”  And as they chanted I reveled in these words of encouragement…and smiled. I am pretty awesome, aren't I?!?  

I suppose my parents could have really been chanting “GOOOoooo (away) VCarr.”  

Naaah, that can’t be right.  I’m just over analyzing.  Go Me!  Go Me!  J

VCarr Coming to Terms

I am sitting here with one of my oldest and bestest friends. A friend who offers me cheese and an allergy pill every time I come over b/c she knows that 1. I love cheese and that 2. I am allergic to her cat. She is a friend that I’ve known since 5^th grade. A friend whose dog I just chauffeured from one side of the city to the other simply out of the kindness of my heart, but mostly b/c I wasn’t doing anything and needed an excuse not to spend another day aimlessly worrying about my future in Korea. And so here we sit, she watching lectures about diuretics and I trying to write an email notifying my future employer that I officially accept the job in Korea.  However, I can’t write the email.  (Don’t get me wrong, I will write the email. I will accept the job. I’m not stupid.) But for right now, at this moment, I simply really don’t want to. Because once I write that email, I will officially have to come to grips with the fact that I won’t be able to sit comfortably with my friend any more. In fact, I won’t be comfortable for a very long time because I am moving to place where no one will know me! No one will know that I love cheese! No one will know that cats make me sneeze!  And when someone needs a ride for their dog, they won’t turn to me. Because that is what you ask of your good friends; people whom you’ve known since 5^th grade. And I won’t know anyone since 5^th grade.  I won’t know a soul.  L*

*OK, that’s not completely true (but it does add a very nice dramatic finish). I will know one person. But he knows nothing of my food preferences, nor my pet allergies. And I’ve only known him for a year, which is nowhere near the 20-year friendship pre-requisite that comes from starting in 5^th grade.

VCarr: Decision Time!

(Somewhere near the end of a very very long job search)

I’m not quite sure what I’m doing with my life. But I do know that I just negotiated a better salary than I could have made in the US. So I guess that means I’m moving to Korea. And I think…. that is…. ok. This might be confirmation bias at work (thanks Russian Commando), but either way I think, I think it’s a good idea.

I held out until the bitter end in my career search and I got exactly what I wanted: a job aboard… only I should have specified that “abroad” really just meant London… or Paris, or any part of Western Europe actually, or maybe Canada, or even the “safe” places in South America. I suppose I should have been a bit more specific sending my request to God. Be careful what you wish for because technically Korea is “abroad.” It might be in a country that is theoretically still at war, and it might be situated right next to potential nuclear conflict, but I didn’t tell God that those things would be an issue. So, there you go. I’m moving to Seoul, Korea… because I got exactly what I wished for.

When I left advertising for business school, I always said I would only go back to advertising for the right boss, the right position and the right salary. And, well, I got all of those things (and to be completely honest, a little bit more). So back to advertising I go.  In all fairness, business school did try to warn me. My pre-business school career assessment tests told me that I should be an advertising account executive… which happened to be exactly what I was doing before business school.  And now, after business school, I’ve spent upwards of a $100K; invested countless hours learning from professors; and generally letting the MBA machine try to turn me into something different— something better. But after two years of school, the result is simply me being pretty much the same person that I was before, still enjoying doing mostly the same work that I did before (and some new stuff), but with a higher paying job.  Which I think is ok. Although, this, too could be confirmation bias at work.  (Darn those organizational behavior classes!).

VCarr Getting Mad, and Getting Nothing Else

(Somewhere in the middle of a very very long job search)

Welcome to the bitter unhappy part of any job search. The place where you go when nothing is going right. When people won’t email or call you back. When you have read every job opening out there; spoken to every contact you can muster; and done just about everything you can think of to get yourself the job. And in this deep dark corner, in its recesses of turmoil, you remember all the potential you once held.  All the money you invested in your ivy league education and graduate degree; the time you spent being successful out there in the “work force.” But alas that is not enough… because “everyone loved you, but [insert ludicrous excuse].” 

My favorite is “everyone loved you, but [we went with someone who had more experience].”  And I wonder is corporate America all colluding in some national office prank? Because it clearly stated my experience on my resume, and I know you, the hiring manager, didn’t read it, but most likely the lowly HR person did. And I ask you, why waste your time (mine, as we know doesn’t matter at all in the process), your resources, your money, on interviewing me on the phone, and then in person? Did you think my experience was some how going to increase by 5 years if we actually chatted through things? Was I going to suddenly look more capable if you saw me face to face? Because the answer to all those questions is NO, it wasn’t going to help. So F--- you, and thank you so much for your time.

VCarr Post-degree: M.B.A. – J.O.B = B.L.O.G

(My Thoughts Two days after graduation…)

After $100K plus investment, what does one do with an MBA?   I know what I’m going to do with mine: frame it. That’s right. I’m taking that sucker and putting it under glass.  Then I will probably put it in a closet somewhere near my undergraduate degree, so it won’t be lonely.  After that, I will head back to my computer and continue looking for a job. 

Yes, you read that correctly. I don’t have a “J”, an “O” or a “B.”  It is, in fact, possible to graduate without one. But do not pity me; now I have time to follow my true passion… which cannot be revealed in case a potential employer reads this.  My passion must remain, shall we say, amenable to future interview questions. (Yes, I love marketing.  Yes, I love consulting. Yes, how could I not love finance?).  I am not saying that I will take any old job.  I do have some rather complicated matrices that I use to identify potential “dream jobs” and “Buy My Soul jobs.”  They are far too complicated to be contained in this blog, but generally they can boiled down to these simple equations:

Dream job = $ + JJJ

Buy My Soul job =  $$$$$ + L

My plan is to analyze these equations.   If I get really desperate, I’ll throw them in excel and see what happens. Derivative here, regression there, quick DCF. You know, b-school stuff. That’s what my degree is in, anyway.  A masters degree in business should be able to help me get a job, right?  I think I read that in the fine print somewhere. Hmmm, lemme just dig that degree out of the closet for a closer look.