Dreaming in a Recession

“It’s been difficult to find a job” could very well be the understatement of the decade, a phrase so often used that despite the truth that weighs the words, it’s become cliché. So by the end of my senior year in college, my post-graduate plan to charge full speed into the concrete jungle of New York City had slowed to a casual walking pace. I planned to take the publishing industry by storm with my witty writing, excellent editing, and captivating coffee collaborating skills…maybe look for love in all the wrong places, undergo a drastic makeover set to some top 40s hits, and misplace my moral compass only to find it again when approached by some sleazy designer at Fashion Week in Paris! Hm, no, wait…I got a bit carried away—those were just movies I’ve seen.

I did intend to take on writing in the Big Apple–the heart of the publishing industry. But when the thunderous and frightening economic forecast became a reality I had to deal with head on, I choked and quickly moved far away from my desired career path and into an industry in which I hadn’t planned to venture:

I became a government contractor in Washington, D.C.

Working for the Government

If you’re from the D.C. Metro area, you know that most everyone you meet is a government contractor. And when asked, “Well, what the hell does that really entail?” you’ll find that every one of those contractors will hem and haw a bit, maybe rattle off a list of acronyms, and eventually conclude that “it’s really not that interesting,” before swiftly switching topics. I would know, I’m one of those mysterious contractors. Describing what government contractors do as a whole can be difficult because there’s a pretty broad range of vocations within the government contracting world. And for some, a security clearance keeps the amount and types of information you can reveal to others regarding your job to a strict minimum. But to be quite honest, it’s really not that interesting. The three most interesting facts I learned upon landing my first job were:

1) I hated my supervisor’s belief that I was only capable of keeping calendars and answering phones,

2) A program manager’s need to fill a billet would always trump my own need to chart my career path; and,

3) I wasn’t prepared with the knowledge necessary to effectively manage my career.

This is where my dad came to the rescue.

Learning About My Father

My dad can best be described as practicality incarnate, and it’s no wonder given the life he’s lead. Christopher Don Scott grew up in the South Side of Chicago in the 1960s, helping his mother make ends meet as the eldest of four. After enlisting in the Air Force at 18, life led him to the humid jungles of Panama where he met my mother. Three children later and stationed in Germany in the 1990s, my father had no time to chase dreams and instead concentrated on being grounded in order to attack the financial burden of supporting three small children and a wife. Despite the 40-odd years he’s lived, when I ask him now, “Well, what’s your dream job?” I can tell he’s barely had the time to give it much thought; his selflessness has run so deep for so long. While the practicality that life instilled in him was evident in the way he counseled me in my academic career, I’d like to believe that I’ve helped him understand the value of clinging to dreams, and that this lesson has helped him support me in my professional career.

He initially imparted career advice to help me excel in the government industry, one he knew so well. Soon, he was helping me apply these tips to transition into an industry that would more appropriately nurture my aspirations as a writer. Armed with 20 years in the Air Force and 10 years as a government contractor, this very sharp man has accumulated quite a bit of knowledge, which he then graciously shared with me…

Plotting with My Father

We teamed up to maneuver my career away from the administrative work contractors seemed thrilled to lock me into (after all, I was so good at answering phones!) and closer to my literary passion. In order to accomplish this, my dad began to teach me Career Development 101, the only class not offered at the expensive liberal arts college I attended. I wanted to be considerate of the company I worked for and felt gratitude towards them–I mean they had hired me when it seemed nobody else would.

In my first lesson, my dad explained the reality of the situation: every business is just that, a business that makes decisions that behoove its own interests and financial goals. It didn’t take long for this lesson to truly hit home: in one afternoon the small company I worked for cut 15 employees. They all waved their pink slips goodbye the very next day. So I realized that it was my business to manage my financial obligations and happiness before anyone else’s. After this, I gave my dad more credit and paid better attention in class.

He went over everything from job searching and interviewing techniques to negotiation methods. After every interview I’d call him and summarize the encounter. He’d give me his best analysis of the interview and his best guess as to what to expect next, almost always spot-on. Beyond these very important job search concepts, the most important lesson my dad taught me was of my personal worth as an employee. So many people informed me that I should be satisfied with a mediocre job and even more mediocre pay because of the state of the economy. My dad didn’t provide me with empty compliments meant to overinflate my ego, he simply gave me an honest assessment of my skills given what he knew of the industry. He was well aware of the way the economy had impacted employment, but he was still positive that my skills were worthy of a better position and better compensation. And I quickly learned that he was right. From that point forward, I expected much more from the government industry in which I was seeking employment, so that’s exactly what I got. Our strategic plans and maneuvers finally paid off when I secured a position where my skills as a writer and editor were acknowledged and utilized on a regular basis. And with that I comfortably exited the administrative world.

Friending My Father

When I started working, I realized that 40 hour work weeks had a funny way of taking over your life. Work became most of what I thought about and spoke about, I even dreamt about it. And where most people weren’t particularly interested in the ins and outs of my job, my dad always was. What’s more, he always had the best advice and could always relate to me with the best, “it’s happened to me too” story. After spending so much time talking to my dad about work, our conversations also began to include my social life. Suddenly, my dad was the best person to approach when my roommate was driving me insane or with an issue my siblings wouldn’t understand. And when I was ready to have a meltdown, the same guy who once struggled to find the right thing to say was suddenly the ideal person to calm me down.

We aren’t Facebook friends. And while some would argue that in 2011, it’s not real until you’ve seen it in your mini-feed, I know for a fact that my father is a better friend to me than most of the 1,000 or so “friends” listed on my page. We talk about philosophy, possible business ventures, literary devices, death, relationships and he even consults me about his own career decisions. And though I will forever be the student to this man who has almost 25 years worth of knowledge over me, I am proud when he asks my opinion, gives it serious consideration and takes it to heart.

My father and I were never particularly close during my high school years or even while I was in college. In fact, those were definitely our rockiest years—an experience to which most adolescents and their parents can probably relate. And while I always did believe we would move past those issues, I never expected to find such a great and reliable friend in my father. He’s helped me successfully develop my career during a recession in an industry I never intended to take on and he continues to help me attempt to achieve my dreams, even when it was something he could never do himself. But best of all, he’s the only person who always picks up the phone when I call and if not, he gives pretty good excuses when he calls back. I love my dad and today I want to offer meager words which could never capture the gratitude I feel towards him: Thank you, Dad, and Happy Father’s Day.

Photo above, left to right, Katharine Scott, Christopher Scott, and Monique Scott.