“There is no time for cut-and-dried monotony. There is time for work. And time for love. That leaves no other time.” – Coco Chanel
After almost ten years as a Personnel Administrator, Grade 18, I was on the list for the Associate Personnel Administrator, Grade 23. It was 2014, and I thought back to when I started with the state. To be honest, I never saw myself making it into a Grade 18 position, much less anything beyond. When I started as a Data Entry Machine Operator – what was then a Grade 5 position – I was just glad to be employed with a few good benefits. In some ways, that was the best attitude to maintain. Without any grandiose goals of managing or moving up, I was able to simply enjoy and do good work at whatever grade level I was able to obtain. I did what I could do to advance whenever possible, but I wasn’t ambitious to the extent that failing to move forward would upset me in any deep way. Still, with scant promotional offerings in my section and my time on the promotional eligible list running out, I took the first chance to interview for an Associate Personnel Administrator when other agencies began sending me canvass letters. Knowing that a canvass letter was probably just a formality, and that agencies had their own promotional lists to go through first, I really didn’t think much of it until I was contacted for the interview.
It was a winter afternoon when I walked into the Office of Children and Family Services – OCFS. The last remnants of dirty snow lined the sidewalk leading into the office, but the sun was shining, just on the verge of going down. A little early, I waited in the interview room, where the vestiges of paper plates and crumbs betrayed a birthday or some other celebration. It was later in the afternoon, and the place felt very still and quiet. That boded well for me. I would rather have quiet and calm than bustle and excitement. I looked out the window at the world in late winter. Grays and browns stretched all the way to the Hudson River. Beyond was my office building. The sun lowered itself in the sky and I followed its elongating shadows in the room. Waiting there, I had a profound feeling that this was it, that something was about to change for me that day. It was the same eerie notion I got while waiting for my first interview at Structure back when I was in college and looking for a part-time job. Call it a premonition, or just a sense that something new was afoot, I embraced the notion that some adventure was about to begin.
Three women merrily broke the silence as they entered the room and introduced themselves: Tonya, Carol and Mary. Of them, Carol did the most talking and seemed to take the lead. As the Director, Mary hung elegantly back, but when she did talk I thought she was hilarious. Tonya was all smiles and very welcoming, and I instantly felt I could work well with all of them. Interviews never made me very nervous – a strange blip in my otherwise-socially-anxious baseline. This interview was thoroughly enjoyable, and though I knew they were considering other candidates, I was honest and thoughtful in what I said, readily offering that I hadn’t spent my whole state career doing personnel work, and I would need a certain amount of training to reach the level of expertise required for a proper Associate level. At this point in my career, I found it best to be upfront and honest – and really, that’s worked for every stage of my employment. Even if it doesn’t always paint you as the candidate who has the most experience, people will appreciate honesty.
After such a good talk, it suddenly felt like I might be on the verge of being offered the position. Still, I had another interview lined up at another agency, so I went ahead with that because nothing in the state is guaranteed until you see it in writing. Also, it’s a good idea to take any interview in which you may be the least bit interested. The best way to improve your interview skills is to go on interviews and practice. At this second interview, I also had an enjoyable experience, but it was a case of a personal connection with the interviewers rather than a feeling of promise and hope that I’d gotten at OCFS. The other agency was a relatively young one, and it was described by its own employees as chaotic and difficult – never a good sign. The amount of hiring they were about to be doing also sounded ominous, and while coming in at the ground level of an operation is one way to have a hand in designing things to your specifications and preference, it is more often than not a position of flux and instability. That’s not a good scene for a Virgo. After the interview they made the first job offer to me, and I accepted – even if I really wanted the position at OCFS more. You don’t turn down a solid opportunity for the possibility of a chance at another. Luckily enough, a few days later OCFS made an offer, and I happily accepted. I brought a bouquet of flowers to the agency I now had to turn down, because the people I had met there were nice, and one never knows when our paths might cross again. That lesson is an important one: don’t ever burn bridges – there’s never a need for that. The person you’re brusquely ignoring one moment may be the one who’s interviewing you the next year. It’s another reminder to treat everyone with respect and care.
Upon receiving the offer from OCFS, I had to do some soul-searching. I’d spent more time at DEC than at all my other state positions combined. It would be a difficult move, a daunting move, but I was a different person than the one who walked tentatively into the Department of State a decade and a half ago. I talked it over at length with Andy, and actually made a list of the benefits and drawbacks of staying and leaving. In the end, I took the promotion, and the chance, and didn’t look back until I was across the Hudson River and happily ensconced in my new office near the train station.
Starting all over again in a new job when you’re almost forty years old can be a scary thing, yet this was the quickest and easiest assimilation into a new office I’d had. There was no frightening waiting period when I wondered if I would find a friend, no crippling worry over feeling comfortable. Maybe I was comfortable enough in my own skin and genuinely confident in what I could do that the old trepidation fostered by insecurity didn’t rear its head anymore. I felt like an accepted part of the office immediately, and while they had their minor squabbles, I loved everyone there. I still hang out with a couple of them to this day.
My supervisor Tonya was amazing, the director Mary was an impeccably-attired dynamo, and Carol and Ginny trained me from the ground up with patience and good humor that made coming to work less of a chore and more of a goal. There was much to learn – every agency does things differently, and while the rules and laws governing our hiring process are the same, the interpretation and methods to enact them can vary widely. Additionally, each agency has its own culture and atmosphere. While DEC had a noble mission, it wasn’t necessarily a human-services-oriented one. At OCFS, there was a welcoming warmth that mirrored their own mission to serve the children and families of the state of New York. There was a discernible difference in talking to the employees. It wasn’t that one was better or friendlier than the other – they were just markedly distinct, and it would take a while to relax into their system.
The days ticked by – the rush of spring into summer – and then the weeks followed suit. Our backyard had gone through several years of growth since I started working at the state, and in some spaces it was overgrown. We chopped down a cherry tree that had become much too unruly, and thinned out the ever-growing clumps of cup plants and miscanthus. Through it all, the morning glories continued to reseed themselves from that first sprinkling of seeds I made when we initially moved into the house. During this time, I acclimated myself to OCFS. By fall, I felt like an integral part of their team, almost like I had been there for my entire career. Learning new things at every turn, I felt the jolt of the challenge at hand, which included new supervisory responsibilities. OCFS had an amazing Supervisory Institute – in-depth, meaningful, intense, challenging, and ultimately rewarding and effective. It was there that I learned the importance of meetings with staff – not wasteful in time, frequency or duration – but meetings which offered each person an opportunity to address any work issues that they had. I learned that good supervisors didn’t refer to those who reported to them as ‘subordinates’ – a term that always irked me – but rather as ‘direct reports’ which was a more accurate name. (No one was above or below anyone, no matter what their title or grade level.) I learned the value of keeping records to evaluate one’s direct reports, because when it came time for the annual performance evaluation you would want to look back at those notes no matter how good your memory may be. Perhaps most important of all were the lessons in effective communication – both in having difficult conversations and stepping back to evaluate your own style, and deficiencies, of how we interact with others. Those lessons didn’t only benefit my work life, but bled into personal improvement as well.
During my time there, and in many of the meetings I had with those who reported to me, I would routinely hear their incredulous view of what one person called my ‘Zen-like’ ability to remain calm and not get annoyed or rattled or upset by something that just happened in the office. In truth, that was not something that I learned in any training course – my baseline level of comportment at work is a cool and somewhat aloof mode of stoic acceptance. I’ve simply never seen the benefit of getting bent out of shape or making a scene in the office. (Andy and certain family members may very well disagree, but homelife is a different series of blog posts.) At work, I strive to err on the side of professional detachment.
That said, there was a growing fondness I felt toward everyone in that office, even as the later hours and lack of a compressed work schedule began to eat into my creative endeavors. As much as I was becoming a part of OCFS, and as much affection as I held for everyone in that office, there was a part of me that realized there’s something to be said for days off and earlier hours, and an agency that provides such flexibility. I may not have any children, but I have a husband who has his own health issues, an aging set of parents that I try to see as much as possible, and a niece and nephew who aren’t always free on weekends. At around that same time, I heard from my old DEC office that there was now an opening for an Associate Personnel Administrator, and if I wanted to come back there might be an opportunity. It wasn’t part of my plan – I had fully invested and become a part of my OCFS office – so much so that I was already planning on hosting the retirement party for one of our co-workers. More touching was the fact that I felt such affection was genuinely reciprocated, and it was one of the first times I felt truly valued by an agency.
As winter limped away, the snow by the river dissipated. Once again, the DEC building shone in the distance with its glass dome like some sparkling denizen of the Emerald City. It beckoned to me, at first with a whisper, and then a missive from Marline. If there was one person who could be counted on for sage advice, it was her, and if she was putting forth the idea of my returning to DEC, that held a powerful meaning.
{See Part One, Part Two, Part Three and Part Four.}
