Own It and Mommy Wars

Let me get this out of the way: it has been sixteen years since I was last in the paid workforce. I haven't worked for money since Claire-Adele was born. Right now, I am looking for a job and/or a book contract. Since my daughter entered kindergarten eleven years ago, I've had dozens of volunteer jobs, some of which were full-time and leadership positions. I've applied for numerous paying jobs via computer applications in the past five years. I've had one interview where the woman asked what my Chinese zodiac sign was. I didn't know, and failed to see the relevance.

Julia, the coach of my "get a job" group for full-time parents returning to work, asked me if I wanted to attend a Change Management conference in Portland. She was going down to talk about her business. When I first looked at the agenda, there were classes like "Learning Through Improv," "Death or Cake," and "Storytelling." I thought it was about personal change, not corporate or institutional change. She poked me again: "Lauren, you should go to this. We both can go for free if we volunteer." After the second invitation, I said yes. Last week, Julia and I took the train from Seattle to Portland and went to the conference together.

When I had a day job sixteen years ago, I worked at a major firm where I worked in change management. I loved it. Back when I was in Change Management, it was a relatively new field and in lower case. I take that back. Back in 1996, it wasn't a field yet. There were no LEAN credentials and no PROSCI certifications, and there certainly wasn't an association for Change Management professionals. At the time, all we had were a few Harvard Business Review articles and a very recently published book called Leading Change by John P. Kotter, a guru in business transformation. We made the rest up as we went along.

Before the conference, I was preparing my pitch so I could explain to people what I had been doing and what I was hoping to do next. In one of our team meetings with the "get a job" group, Julia said we didn't have to mention that the work we did was volunteer. Rather, let the work speak for itself. I felt a huge relief when I thought about this way. I cringed when I thought about how many cover letters I sent that started with "I am looking to return to the paid workforce..." No wonder no one hired me.

I felt better about my new pitch: "I ran for School Board last year and lost. Now I am looking for Plan B. I used to be in Change Management back at a large firm, and then I got involved in community advocacy where I used change management skills in the public sphere..." A vast majority of the people at this conference were in corporate or consulting environments. A handful were in non-profit or government, but I was the only one who ran for office. I was different and people were curious about me. It was cool.

Julia and I were busy with our separate activities and schedules during the first day of the conference. At the end of the evening at the bar, I ran into Julia while she was talking to two other women. Julia introduced me as one of her clients. I withered as my cover was blown, but Julia was working too. Part of her job was to promote her clients.

I joined in the conversation with these women, who were close to my age or older. Both were moms. One worked part-time and her kids were in school. One worked full-time and her kids were grown.

"Are there still conversations about the 'Mommy Wars'?" asked the full-time woman whose kids were launched.

"I think the Mommy Wars are really between a mom and dad, a husband and wife, more than between mothers," I said.

"That is fascinating," she said. "Tell me more."

"My decision whether or not to work had more to do with the unique circumstances of the job I had at the time my kids were born and my husband's job," I said. "I didn't think about or care whether some women stayed at home or others worked." I explained how I had been traveling three days a week, and that my husband's job required night and weekend work in addition to the usual Monday though Friday workdays. I explained how I had been pregnant twice before my daughter was born. I was seeing a high-risk obstetrician, and I didn't want to another pregnancy.

"You made the right decision," said the woman who worked full-time as she put on her coat to go back to her hotel for the night. "You made the right decision."

She left before I could ask her why she thought that. I was jealous looking at her with her big job in a good company. I didn't know if she ever stayed home with her kids, but I doubted it, otherwise she would have offered me advice on how to relaunch. Would she really have traded her career for her kids? No one can go back and live their lives both ways, once as a stay-at-home parent and once as a working mom. Perhaps she underestimated how hard it is to get back into the ranks of the professional workforce, as did I.

After the woman left, Julia asked how people were reacting to the fact that I had been out of the work force for so long.

"I haven't been telling people," I said.

"You should tell them," she said. "Own the fact that you've been out for sixteen years. See what people say. Ask them for advice how to get back in the game."

What? I thought. There is no way.  "I thought you told us we didn't need to tell people we were volunteers..." I said.

"Give it a shot," she said. "See what happens. You might be surprised."

I decided to trust Julia. She had spent all day talking to people about her business. Maybe she knew something I didn't. Maybe she wanted me to be her guinea pig. Either way, eventually it would come up at some point that I hadn't gotten a paycheck in years. This cocktail networking event seemed like a safe enough environment. If I bombed with one person, I could move on to the next.

At the bar, I walked up to a woman and we started to talk. I asked her what she did. She worked for a company after spending a few years in consulting.

"What do you do?" she asked.

I paused. "I ran for School Board last year and lost. I used to be in change management and community advocacy, and now I am looking to return to the work force after being out for sixteen years."

She seemed a little miffed. "I wish I could have quit after having kids, but I couldn't," she said.

(I guess I was wrong about the Mommy Wars. They are alive and strong.)

"I wanted to work after I had kids, but I had to travel three days a week for my job and my husband works nights and weekends," I said.

She paused, her defensiveness dissipating. "I really wanted to stay home with my kids. The firm I was working at four years ago made a special effort to help moms stay working."

"A lot has changed in twelve years," I said. "And for the better." I asked her for advice on what she thought I could do to return to the workforce. She seemed stumped, but eventually gave me a few suggestions. Perhaps she was thinking herself now how hard it would be to re-enter the workforce after leaving to stay home with kids. Maybe looking at me made her grateful about the decision she made.

Or maybe not. It was near the end of a long day, and she was tired. She was debating whether to go home before or after her preschool age child would be asleep. If she got home before he kid was asleep, the bedtime routine would start all over. If she wasn't working, she wouldn't have to decide.

The next day, I ran into a woman over lunch at the conference and she asked me to join her. Lunch was a buffet, and I asked the guy behind me to join us. She was young--thirty-one to be exact. The guy was a few years older than me, but with no kids.

I gave them my pitch, including that I hadn't worked in sixteen years. The three of us had a lively and fun conversation. "Would you be interested in going back to consulting?" she asked me. I told her I was open and flexible. Later, I went to give the woman my card.

"I really enjoyed meeting you," she said. "It was nice to have an authentic conversation instead of all of the glad-handing that goes on at a conference."