I’m Sally, and I’m the HFIC around here. That’s Head-Frau-In-Charge. Or maybe it’s HausFrau-In-Charge. I don’t know. At any rate, that’s me in the picture above . . . with professional lighting and professional hair styling and more makeup than usual. I usually keep it real and leave the house without brushing my hair.
Once upon a time, I was a college undergraduate toiling away at a degree in English. I had dreams of graduating and taking the world by storm with my fiery wit. In reality, I graduated a few months after 9-11. Which means I couldn’t find a job. Which meant that I would get (more) educated instead.
I spent a few more years working on a Master’s degree in Writing. I had it all figured out. Instead of writing the Great American Novel, like everyone else in my graduating class, I wanted to actually make a living as a writer. Thus, I would write romance novels. I even had my pen name figured out. My Master’s thesis was a collection of poetry. I was workin’ it.
Before I finished my Master’s, I got a job (!). A real one (!!). I would be a proposal writer for an investment firm where I would have my own cubicle (!) with my own phone (!!) and my own extension (!!!). Oh, yeah. I was totally workin’ it.
You know what a proposal writer really is? A glorified cutter and paster. As you can imagine, that novelty wore thin. 14 months later, I took another job on a TOTAL fluke – educational sales. For goodness sake, I wasn’t a salesperson! I wrote poetry. I could quote Shakespeare. What did I know in the ways of the business driven?
However, I WAS an overachiever who loved a good challenge and THAT certainly is good for driving sales. Who knew? Apparently I WAS a salesperson.
I didn’t necessarily love what I was doing, but I was good at what I was doing. Plus the money was fan-freaking-tastic. I felt like I had made a deal with the devil. I was successful and recognized in my small company, but I had gotten so far removed from anything creative.
Still, the perks of working from a home office meant that I could go to work in my pajamas while my shoe collection grew at an impressive rate. I promised myself that I would just stay that magical carpet ride out until it ended. I fiddled with the blog idea. I started this site up and even made a banana bread to share with the world. But there were pipelines to fill and new marketing strategies to create.
5 1/2 years in, the carpet ride ended. The economy was in the toilet and the public educational system didn’t have 2 pennies to rub together. One Monday, after I had come back from a vacation, my supervisor called me and told me I was fa-fa-fired. She didn’t even want to know how my cruise went. Totally rude, if you ask me.
I did some job searching. I did some gardening. I did some dieting. I did some housecleaning. Actually, I did LOTS of housecleaning. And eventually I saw the death of my sales career as blessing-in-disguise. I came back here and, this time, I think I’m going to stay a spell.
To tell you just a teeny bit more about me (because I really think I have gone on enough): I’m married to quite the handsome and humorous fellow. He’s 17 years older than me, which means that he gets his fair share of high fives from the male population. If only they really knew that I sleep in tattered sweatpants whose bottoms sag to my knees. Bless his heart. He’s survived raising 2 children that have set out on their merry ways in search of college and careers and self-sufficiency. Double-bless his heart.
We live in Baltimore, Maryland in a house run by our 3 dogs – Maggie, Murphy, and Max.
Alright! For chrissakes, just give the man a freakin’ medal already!
. . . though he may better appreciate ear plugs.