5 Questions after International Women’s Day

That’s what the day does for me: it leaves me with questions. Basically they are all rooted in the same inner controversy of feeling honored and humiliated at the same time. Honored because of the attention, admiration and concern that is given to women, yet humiliated by the realization that things are pretty bad, if it is necessary to nominate a special day for this purpose.

Women & Technology?

I find this one tricky, don’t you? As a little girl I had no doubt as to which kind of toys were meant for girls and which for boys: Girls played with dolls and were creative, while boys took stuff apart and built things. No one would give me an electrical toy train for my birthday; I would play with my brothers whenever he let me. Who decided, that toy trains were not for me, just because I was girl?
When Star Wars was popular, my brother and I both built entire fleets of spaceships from paper and cruised the galaxies in the entire house for months.

Taking a closer look, though, the way he played was completely different from mine. His spaceships had a clear definition of speed, power and all kinds of technical parameters - mine had a beautiful design and carefully chosen names as well as a clear purpose. His spaceships fought wars; mine investigated the universe and send help to wherever it was needed.

An ever growing number of women are being honored for their achievements not only on this day, yet I found few who receive their recognition due to achievements in technology. A list of Top Ten TED talks by women included only one such woman: an MITprofessor with a fascination for robots. But guess what her robots are designed for? They are personal robots helping people; their purpose is to improve communication and interaction.

Women & Career?

It does seem that most women who have a successful career are not in technology. But there is no question, that women can build a career for themselves, if they choose to - at least in western society. In many cases I still wonder how they do it, though. The question for which I have not found an answer is whether a woman can have a career and still keep her family at first priority. Reading the stories of successful women, there often is a break in the plot, where they take time off to raise their children. For each of these, there are many more, whose stories will not be told, because they never managed to get back on the career train afterwards. How many male career stories do you know, that include such a break?

The issue is hot enough even for internet giant Google to do something about it or at least show awareness.  And thanks to international women’s day I learned about “Google Campus for Moms”, a workshop empowering young mothers who are also entrepreneurs. I am not at all sure they have the answer.

 

Women & Equality?

Does this mean women need to be treated special in order to be equal? The thought makes me shiver a little. It’s not like women are a minority. Neither are they less intelligent or less gifted. Or are they? There still is no consensus about that. While it is not politically correct to question women’s intelligence and abilities in a western society, it is still the way it thinks and acts in many areas of life. Why else do women still get paid less for doing the same job and why do they have such a hard time even getting certain jobs?

But equality is really a relative term. For most women in the world technology and career are not even part of their existence and the question of equality for many  evolves around being allowed to vote, drive a car, get an education or make a choice about their own lives and bodies.

 

Women & Human Rights?

But isn’t that what makes us human? The ability to make a choice, rather than act on pure instinct or conditioned behavior is what separates us from the rest of the animal world. Yet women are still denied the right to use this very ability in too many African, Arab and Asian countries. Their freedom is reduced to an extent where they do not even have a voice to speak out and make themselves heard on the day of their honor. Who is to speak up for human rights and expose violence against women in countries, where girls are made to feel sub-human? I recall few.  One belongs to Liberian Nobel Prize winner Leymah Gbowee; another to an unbelievable courageous teenage girl fleeing Pakistan after an attempt to assassinate her for speaking up.

Could it be that people really believe women to be less human? It seems unfathomable, but that’s what the evidence indicates.

 

Women & Abuse?

From this attitude the path to abuse is very short. While I am contemplating whether girls playing with dolls and boys playing war is just an imposture by society or deeply rooted in the divine purpose of life, millions of girls are sold, raped, forced to prostitution or similar labor, trafficked, mutilated, killed or simply left to die. The dimensions of abuse and brutality are hard to grasp. How can this be?

The movement “Half the Sky” has put the problem on the tables of influential and famous women around the world and inspired them to act. Watching their documentary has changed the way I feel about being a woman. It has made me humbly grateful for the way I live and the possibilities I have. It has also sharpened my awareness of female vulnerability. I came to understand that only the strength of women in modern societies can change the fate of those treated like property or worse. Only women leaving their mark on technology, striving for a career, fighting for complete equality and against the violation of human rights can state the case for those who have no voice and confront the abusers.

I am left with more questions than answers, but also one important realization: improving the status of women around the world would improve human society as such.

 

Break a leg! - do I have to?

 

We could put the question to this amazing almond tree in its full blossom. It had every possible branch broken by a merciless snowstorm and was literally crushed to the ground. Not only did it prevail, it seems to have found a new way to define its own beauty.

These days nature in and around Jerusalem is beginning to dress itself in its spring colors and it is hard to image what it looked like two months ago, when it was attacked by the heaviest winter weather in about 100 years.

Last weekend I was drawn outside by the spring air to take a glimpse at the beauty of nature being born again. This incredible almond tree instantly caught my attention and fascination. At first I did not even understand what I was looking at. Only upon getting closer did it become clear that the branches of this lovely princess of trees had been bent under the weight of the snow and simply brought to the ground. Yet, the suffering princess did not lose her determination to pioneer spring and brought forth an abundance of blossoms at first chance. Since she stands at a slope, the delicate blossoms seem to flow down the hill, thus decorating it in a most elegant fashion.

“How profound”, I thought. Doesn’t this tree express something that philosophers have tried to put in words far as long as words exist? It holds a wisdom in it that people are constantly rephrasing. Just recently I read an article about having to fail in order to succeed.

As I walked on I came across an even clearer illustration of the same message. This fragile youngster was affected even more severely; its crown seemed completely fallen. But that did not keep its flowers from opening up in a call for the continuation of the life cycle.  

 

What profound aphorism would I use as title to the picture, when I share it on my Facebook page? Who should I best quote to express in words what happened here?  Could I even find something that isn’t already completely chewed up and make everyone go “awwwww” and scroll down to the next profound bla on their walls? Probably not.

 The truth is we’d all rather be beautiful and successful without having our branches broken and crowns crushed. But the trees are still awesome.

 

 

Dog Racing for a Job

During late morning hours I received a call from an unknown number. A young female voice, all cheerful and sweet told me her name and the name of some placement-agency, said she had a job to offer. If it was comfortable for me to talk now, was her question. She spoke so quickly, I never got her name and the agency I could only guess. I wonder if these girls get trained to sound energetic on the phone. I said sure, so she went on to tell me about this particular company, the job they were offering and that they want someone with this experience and those skills, and the person would have to do this and that and all the usual. Then little Ms Cheerful asked me, if I am currently working. I said, that I am self employed and she should have that on my CV. She confirmed, asked if the job was interesting for me and whether to send my CV and if I had a car and if I still lived in the same place and… she kept going on. After I “yesed” everything like a robot, there was a bit of silence, so I asked where the company was located. She didn’t have exact information. I asked what this company produced, but she wasn’t sure either. Then I asked about the approximate size of the company, also without answer. The sweetness in her voice had been fading and was now completely replaced by an impatient I-don’t-give-a-damn-I’m-just-doing-my-job-tone. Finally she wanted to know my salary expectations. The conversation lasted less than three minutes, not even enough for me to get my mind set on the subject. My brain needs some time to load stuff in order to use it efficiently; it’s not the most modern version.

What did I expect? These girls – actually they are probably young women, maybe even mothers already – get paid for placing somebody, not for knowing what they’re doing. Time is critical, not because it really matters, but because of competing agencies, who will snatch their candidates away. Competence is no issue. All that matters is who sends the CV in first. It’s like a gambling game of some sort. A CV is a card in the game with certain criteria turned into symbols that need to match. You’re no person; you’re not even a face or a name. You are merchandise, like a bunch of smelly fish on the fish market before sunrise, still beating your tails against each other while the dealers are throwing a quick glance at you as their eyes roam over the crates to see if you are good enough for them. If you are, they quickly holler a price. And if not, they move on to the next. Reminds me of a slave market, only that each slave had his own price. In this market the price is the same per placement.

Did I get a little carried away here? In any case, I am glad I am not seriously looking for a job. After all, the money I make as a freelancer keeps me going. The reason I agree to have my card played in this game is that I think one should keep the options open. Nobody can promise me, that tomorrow there will still be demand for what I do today.

 

In the late afternoon I get another phone call from an unknown number. A male voice introduces himself and his company. Again, I don’t get his name and can only guess the company name, because he is on speaker and sounds far away and kind of echoy. Then he introduces a second person with a name I do not get and a position I can only hope to guess right. He says they got my CV and would like to ask me a few questions before inviting me to a proper interview and if I had a few minutes, was his question. Well, I actually have my mouth full, because I was tasting the Bolognese that is cooking on the stove. It is my daughters favorite dish and today is one of those rare times she came to have lunch with me.

“Sure, no problem”. I turn off the stove, leave my somewhat perplexed daughter alone in the kitchen and go into my office. What is he going to ask? Flashes through my head. I am not a spontaneous person; information in my brain is not always available to my tongue, especially if it has not been called up for a while. Ask me what year I worked at a certain company and I need to count back year by year. The guy goes on to tell me the company is looking for someone with this experience and those skills, and the person would have to do this and that and all the usual. Then he asks how this sounds to me. If it didn’t sound suiting he wouldn’t be on the phone with me.  My mind has gone into alert mode and is set for something much more challenging.

“Fine, I’ve done all that.” He tells me work hours are from seven to four. They would be a bit flexible with this, but also definitely expect extra hours on a daily basis. In other words, if you come ten minutes after seven, no one will scream at you, but if you expect to leave at half past four, forget it, it’s too early. Actually, it doesn’t matter when you intend to leave, it’s always too early. The thought of having to get up early enough to be in an office at seven, makes me shiver. Rushing out off bed, when it is still dark outside sounds like an impossible mission to me, although I’ve done it for years. I don’t mind working late or at night; at least not from home.

“I have no problems with work hours; I am flexible and can do extra”. He is delighted and wants to know, how far I live and if I have a car. I am starting to feel bored with this conversation and wonder, if they spoke with little Ms Cheerful-but-indifferent from the agency at all.

“Yes and yes”. He is about to finish the conversation, while I am still waiting for some sort of professional inquiry to start. Then the female jumps in and confirms my guess about her being the human resources manager by asking my salary expectation. “Didn’t the agency tell you?” I can’t stop myself this time. The HR-gambler says that she hasn’t had time to check or something like that. I find that strange and unprofessional. But I guess since the symbols on my playing card match she expects me to take what I can get. Or maybe she wants to check if the amount I tell her equals the amount I told the agency-girl (sorry! “-woman”).

I do. She rattles on about wanting me to start immediately and needing me for an interview tomorrow, but since I was self-employed that surely would not be a problem, or would it? I have no appointments scheduled for tomorrow, meaning there are no binding time limitations. There is, however, a lot of work on my desk. I have deadlines to meet and customers to please. My time needs to be planned carefully with the different assignments and then combined with the house- and family demands.

“I have no time limitations tomorrow, whenever you want”.

Again I say what they want to hear, because I’m afraid if I don’t abide by the rules of their game they may not invite me at all. But to be honest, I am in no mood to change around my plans for some instant job-cooking adventure. What are the chances? Even if they offered it me the job, would I consider taking it? I would have stability. I would know exactly how much money I make each month. No more bad months and good months and no more living in constant fear of there not being enough income in the next month. I would have set work hours and home hours. No more sleeping in and juggling with time and tasks. I would do my shopping when everybody else does, cook regularly, clean regularly and spend the time that is left with my family. All this would be part of a routine. No more shopping when the supermarket is empty. No more dropping everything and putting it off to later, because my daughter needs to talk. No more switching off for a while until I am functional again, when the migraine hits or spontaneously taking off a few hours to cook something special and then work at night. With the job they may or may not offer me, I would lose the ability to decide how much work I want to and can do - or how much I need to do, in order to make enough money. My time would no longer be my time.

 

The next morning I wake up with the anticipation for the call from the gambler-woman, whose name I didn’t catch, to tell me when she wants me. I will need to prepare myself, go over my CV, over possible questions and eloquent answers, remember dates, responsibilities, tasks I have done, revive concepts, tactics and strategies in my head and formulate all kinds of intelligent ideas, that make a professional impression on players like her. I need to choose suiting clothes that make me look serious, not homely and simple, but also not extravagant or flashy. I need to appear assertive and self-confident, on the other hand not overconfident but definitely also not insecure. What a project! Why did I agree to meet them today and jettison everything that is important to me professionally at the moment?

When the call finally comes around noon I am deep into one of my assignments. I apologize right away and explain that I will not be able to make it today, because someone is relying on me. She insists that I try. I insist that it’s not the kind of person I can let down - I mean myself. Her voice sounds like that of an overconfident woman who, after flirting with who she thought was her biggest romantic admirer, is told that he would rather just be friends. And she reacts the same way as well. “Ahhh, yes. I understand” Her voice is doing its best not to reveal that she is in a pique” Well, we can’t wait, by Monday the job may well be taken.”  How dare I turn her down?! How dare I waste her time?!

 

She says she will let me know, but by the time I hang up it’s obvious that I will never hear from her again. I have moved from being a fish in the fish-market to a dog in a dog-race, being tempted into wanting to win. It’s irrelevant how professional I am, how qualified, how experienced, how suiting I may be for this job. It’s just about being first, or about pleasing the potential employer. I don’t blame her, there are more than enough dogs to choose from.  All she needs to do is put them all under pressure and make them try to sell themselves as best as they can. They will come racing for the job, as if their lives depended on it. They will run and jump and kick and bark, because their livelihood does depend on it. They will be assertive and serious and determined and impress and pretend and bluff and fake just to please, because they have no choice. It’s the only way to win the race for a job.

It’s not going to happen for me. I don’t want it enough. It is not even the freedom I have as a freelancer, because that is limited. I work all the time, no holidays, no closing hours, no going home and leaving the job at the office. My home is my office and my office is my home. I do what I need to close deals or to get the job done or I do what I am told. I have deadlines and never know if the money flow is going to last and for how long. But there is a price to my work and this price actually has a value. Each hour has a value. My time has value. Whatever I do pays, and I can decide for myself whether I need it or not. I can decide for myself what is worth my time and what isn’t.

I feel human.

 

MARKETVALUE or The Price Of Feeling Human

I almost got a job-offer this week. But to be honest, I don’t think this is going to happen anymore. Not just this time, but in general.

I got a call during late morning hours from an unknown number. A young female voice, all cheerful and sweet told me her name, the name of some job-agency, she was calling from and that she had a job to offer. If it was comfortable for me to talk now, was her question. She spoke so quickly, I never got her name and the agency I could only guess, because I know the names of some. I wonder if these girls get trained to sound energetic on the phone. I said sure, so she went on to tell me about a company in this city, which was looking for a purchaser and that they want someone with this experience and those skills, and the person would have to do this and that and all the usual. Little Ms Cheerful obviously read this from somewhere out loud. Then she also said the company name and asked me, if I am currently working. I said, that I am self employed and she should have that on my CV. She confirmed, asked if this was interesting for me and whether to send my CV and if I had a car and if I still lived in the same place – as she kept going, she seemed to remember more and more things she needed to ask, or maybe she read them from somewhere as well. After I “yesed” everything like a robot, there was a little gap in time to take a breath, so I asked where the company was located. She didn’t have any information, just knew the city. I asked what this company produced, but she didn’t know that either just said the name indicated something in the medical field. I guessed that myself. Then I asked if it was a new or a veteran company and how big it was. She didn’t have this information either, but didn’t think it was a start-up. The sweetness in her voice had been fading and was now completely replaced by an impatient I-don’t-give-a-damn-just–stop-asking-so-many-questions-nuisense-I–have-a-job-to-do-tone. Last she wanted to know my salary expectations. I gave it to her. The conversation lasted for less than three minutes, not even enough for me to get my mind set on the subject. My brain needs some time to load stuff in order to use it efficiently; it’s not the most modern version.

These girls – actually they are probably young women, maybe even mothers already – get paid for placing somebody, not for giving accurate information to potential candidates. Time is critical, not because it really matters, but because the competition between the job agencies is really tough. If you are looking for a job, you send your CV to as many agencies as possible, because you want maximum exposure. Companies looking to fill a position do the same. So now, what happens is that all agencies send the same CVs to the company looking to hire, but only the first one gets the commission for the person who is eventually hired. If they are not the first to send it, they lose it. It doesn’t matter if they choose only the best qualified candidates or if their selection system is precise and sophisticated or if they really know who they are sending. Whoever matches certain codes gets send. There is no quality in this business, there is only time. It’s like a gambling game or something. And if you’re looking for a job, your CV is just a card in the game. A card with symbols that need to match. You’re no person, you’re not even a face or a name. You are merchandise, like a bunch of smelly fish on the fish market before sunrise, still beating your tail against the other fish while the dealers are throwing a quick glance at you as their eyes are roaming through the merchandise to see if you are the type they want. If you are, they quickly offer a price, before some other buyer snatches you away. And if not, they move on to the next. Slaves used to be traded this way as well. At least at the time each slave had his own price. In this market the price is the same per placement.

Did I get a little carried way here? I don’t know. All I know is, I am glad that I am not really looking for a job. After all, I am working and the money I make keeps me going. The reason I always agree to have my card played in the game is, that I think one should keep the options open. Nobody can promise me, that what I do today will last. Anything can happen, companies I work with today can go out off business tomorrow, their demands and priorities may change, clients may find a better solution or personal changes may bring someone into the picture, who I just can’t get warm with.

 

The company name sounded familiar, I am sure I’ve been there before. How many companies in the medical field are there in this city? I have been to a few and know the rest.

In the late afternoon I get another phone call from an unknown number. A male voice introduces himself and his company. Again, I don’t get his name and can only guess the company name, because he is on speaker and sounds far away and kind of echoy. Then he says that there is someone with him, a name I do not get and her position I can only hope to guess right. He says they got my CV and they would like to ask me a few questions. “On the phone?” I wonder out loud. He says they just want to clear a few basic points to see whether to invite me to a proper interview and if I had a few minutes, was his question. Well, I actually have my mouth full (just managed to swallow the last bit before answering), because I was tasting the potato-puree, that is cooking on the stove next to the vegetables and they all need to be taken off the gas, because they are ready and therefore I am just about to set the table, so me and my daughter can sit down and have a meal together, which happens maybe once a week.

“Sure, no problem”. I turn off the gas, leave my somewhat perplexed daughter alone in the kitchen and go into the living room. What is he going to ask? Shoots through my head. I am not a spontaneous person; information in my brain is not always available to my tongue, especially if it has not been called up for a while. Ask me what year I worked at a certain company and I need to count back year by year. The guy, who is obviously the purchasing manager of the company goes on to tell me the company is looking for someone with this experience and those skills, and the person would have to do this and that and all the usual and would be working as part of a team and reporting to him, the purchasing manager. Then he asks how this sounds to me. If this didn’t sound o.k. to me and I didn’t think I was suiting, he wouldn’t be on the phone with me right now.  I am preparing myself for more serious questions.

“Fine, I’ve done all that.” He tells me work hours are from seven to four. They would be a bit flexible with this, but also definitely expect extra hours on a daily basis. In other words, if you come ten minutes after seven, no one will scream at you, yet, for being late, but if you expect to leave fifty minutes after four, don’t even bother considering the job, it’s too early. Actually, it doesn’t matter when you intend to leave, it’s always too early. The thought of having to get up early enough to be at work at seven, makes me shiver. I usually don’t get up till eight and then I take it easy. Getting out off bed quickly, when it is still dark outside sounds like an impossible mission to me at the moment, although I’ve done it for years. I don’t mind working late; I sit in front of the computer till ten o’clock or more. But that’s at home.

“I have no problems with work hours; I am flexible and can do extra”. He is delighted and wants to know, if I live in this city and if I have a car. I feel a little bored with this conversation and wonder, if they spoke with little Ms Cheerful-but-indifferent from the agency at all.

“Yes and yes”. He is about to finish the conversation, while I am still waiting for the real questions to start. Then the female takes the word and confirms my guess about her being the human resources manager by asking my salary expectation. “Didn’t the agency tell you?” I can’t stop myself this time. The buyer of human resources says that she probably did, but she hasn’t had time to check or something like that. That’s strange. If it is important enough to be one of the basic criteria, that determine whether I get invited for an interview, wouldn’t she have checked before calling me? No, I guess she had no time to do that and thought she could leave it for the phone. The symbols on my game-card match, therefore she was going to call me anyway. Or maybe she wants to check if I tell her the same amount I told the agency-girl – sorry, -woman.

I do tell her the same salary expectations. She goes on to tell me that I would have to be able to start immediately, but because I am self employed this wouldn’t be a problem, or would it? And about wanting to invite me for an interview a.s.a.p., tomorrow, but she needs to see in the morning, and she will call and for now she needs to know, if I can make it tomorrow. I have no appointments scheduled for tomorrow, so there should be no time limitations. There is, however, a lot of work on my desk that I am planning to take care of and complete. Among others, I am scheduled to submit one of the projects I am working on by the day after tomorrow. Also, I absolutely need to clean the house, because I haven’t had time for anything besides work in the past two weeks, so the place looks accordingly. I have been waiting for these few free hours, to vacuum and wash the floors and bathrooms and I knew I would have them tomorrow. All this I need to finish before the evening, because I am going to a theater show, which is really a special event.

“I have no time limitations tomorrow, whenever you want”.

I say what they want to hear, because I’m afraid, if I don’t adapt to their time schedule they may not invite me at all. But to be honest, I am in no mood for a job-interview, while I have all these things planned. And even if they offered me the job, would I even consider taking it? I would need to get up at six o’clock every morning. I would give up the luxury of organizing most of my work hours myself and the ability to decide how much work I want to and can do - or how much I need to do, in order to make enough money. Now, when I get a migraine I can just switch off for a while until I am functional again. I can do my shopping when the supermarket is empty, I can be there for my family, when they need me and postpone my work to when they’re not around. I can spontaneously take a day off for cleaning or to go to the doctor or cook something special and then work at night, if necessary. Even if they agree to pay, what I asked for, it would still be less than I make at average as a freelancer. If I get a conventional job, I would have pre-organized work hours and home hours. I general, things would be more organized. I would do my shopping and cleaning and cooking regularly, when everybody else does and I would spend the time that is left with my family. No more letting the dishes pile up in the sink till there are none left to eat from and no more eating Cornflakes, because it’s the only thing left till I take the time to cook again. All this would be part of a routine. No more dropping everything and putting it off to later, because my daughter needs to talk. With the job they may or may not offer me I would know exactly how much money I get each month. It would pay less than I make on my own, but it would be stable. No more bad months and good months and no more living in constant fear of there not being enough income in the next month.

 

The next morning I wake up with the thought that this human assets buyer, whose name I didn’t catch, is going to call and tell me when she wants me. I will need to prepare myself properly, go over my CV, over possible questions and eloquent answers, remember dates, responsibilities, tasks I have done, revive concepts, tactics and strategies in my head and formulate all kinds of intelligent ideas, that make a professional impression on people like this. I need to choose suiting clothes that make me look serious, not homely and simple, but also not extravagant or flashy. I need to appear assertive and self-confident, on the other hand not overconfident but definitely also not insecure. Last night I had checked their web-site and realized that indeed I had been there for a job interview before. It was a slightly different job, specialized in a certain field, which I had little experience in. I don’t know, if this was the reason they didn’t offer me the job, but I do remember that they offered a salary that was three quarters the amount I expect. I would give it a chance again, doesn’t hurt to go to an interview. This time they want a general buyer. That’s me. I can find anything anywhere in the world and I can negotiate prices and conditions with anyone while sticking to targets and deadlines. I can write and read and understand reports, as well as plan stock and schedule logistics. I can … well, do anything a good purchaser needs to and I’m successful. But why did I agree to meet them today? It totally plays havoc with all my plans and will take effect even on the schedule for next week. And there’s no way I will be able to submit my project in time. Now, which excuse can I give to postpone to Monday?

The woman calls later than I expected, as I am far into my days scheduled activities and things are progressing smoothly. I apologize as soon as she begins to talk about the time for the interview. I make up some story about having to meet some important person from one of the overseas companies, I work with. She insists that I try. I insist that it’s not the kind of person I can turn down (I meant myself). Her voice sounds like that of a freshly divorced woman, who just had her first one-nighter and didn’t know it, so she calls the next day only to be told that he didn’t really mean what he said the night before, but she’s a nice lady and he’ll keep her number.  And she reacts the same way as well. “Ahhh, yes. I understand” Her voice is doing its best not to reveal that she is in a pique” Well, we can’t wait, by Monday the job may well be taken.”  How dare I turn her down?! How dare I waste her time?!

 

She says she will let me know, but by the time I hang up I know that I will not hear from this workforce driver again. I have moved from being a fish in the fish-market to a dog in a dog-race, being tempted into wanting to win. Again, it doesn’t matter how professional I am, how qualified, how experienced, how suiting I may be for this job. It’s just about being first, or about pleasing the potential employer. I don’t blame her, she probably really has no time and there are more than enough dogs to choose from.  All she needs to do is put them all under pressure and make them try to sell themselves as best as they can. They will come racing for the job, as if their lives depended on it. They will run and jump and kick and bark, because their livelihood does depend on it. They will be assertive and serious and determined and impress and pretend and bluff and fake just to please, because they have no choice. It’s the only way to win the race for a job.

It’s not going to happen for me. I don’t want it enough. It is not even the freedom I have as a self-employed person, because I don’t. I work all the time, no holidays, no closing hours, no going home and leaving the job at the office. My home is my office and my office is my home. I do what I need to, to close deals or to get the job done or I do what I am told. I have deadlines and never know if the money flow is going to last and for how long. But there is a price to my work and this price actually has a value. Each hour has a value. Whatever I do pays, and I can decide for myself whether I need it or not. I can decide for myself what is worth my time and what isn’t.

I feel human.