My career has been in a mortifying tailspin since I left Vietnam eight years ago. It’s been a harrowing plunge into irrelevance.
I left a glamorous life as a foreign correspondent to become a stay-at-home dad, failed novelist, and freelance writer and editor — in spite of the fact that I’m a miserable self-promoter with no talent whatsoever for rustling up work.
Every now and then, an appealing full-time writing job comes up, and I apply for it. I’ve been a finalist several times for some very attractive positions for which I was eminently qualified.
Invariably, I’ve become an also-ran.
“We hired someone with more social media experience,” comes the refrain, which loosely translates to: “We hired a young person, you geezer loser, even though you joined Facebook, Twitter and Instagram before they were born, and you can write them into the ground.”
Here I am, a 58-year old print journalist, and my next birthday is coming up soon. Need I say more?
But thanks to Debra Manivong, my job prospects suddenly seem bright.
She thinks I have all the right stuff to become a boffo life insurance salesman! I’d make a stellar addition to the Bankers Life and Casualty sales team!
She told me so in an email this morning. It came as a marvelous surprise — nearly as unexpected as a recent offer for a 10-percent discount on cremation and an excellent deal on a burial plot.
“Our agents come from diverse professional backgrounds, from teachers to military veterans,” Debra wrote.
I recently put my resume on a job search website. I guess Debra saw it there and was bowled over by my huckster potential.
Her missive came on the heels of an equally inspirational note from State Farm recruiter Jolene Vancel, who’s looking for professionals like me to meet the company’s recruiting needs in the Seattle region.
“Being a State Farm Agent offers the potential of a fulfilling, rewarding career through helping people in your community,” Jolene explained.
I feel better already.