This year’s group of 2015 Winter Meetings Job Seekers will be introduced in a MiLB.com story on Friday. In the meantime, please enjoy this final update from 2014’s Job Seeking crew. Today we hear from Julie Brady, who has changed her Twitter handle to @destroybaseball. Let us hope that she is unsuccessful in this mission, as the destruction of baseball would necessitate me to undertake a job search of my own.
It was a dark and stormy night.
I drove down the Cajon Pass into San Bernardino late on December 30th, 2014. It was cold and it was snowing. There were palm trees, but I didn’t trust them. These must be decoy palm trees designed to lure in the innocent like me. The Midwest too winter-intensive for you? Here, come to Southern California. Look at these palm trees, how could it be cold here?
Baseball seemed very far away.
The next day was sunny and 55 degrees, which was the coldest it was for the next eleven months. The palm trees became more acceptable. My body immediately calibrated itself so that anything below 60 was the coldest temperature that I’d ever felt. Twenty below with windchill? Is that even possible anywhere in this world, even in the darkest recesses of memory? Surely not. Surely not.
Baseball seemed much closer.
I was beginning work for the Inland Empire 66ers — Class A Advanced affiliate of the Los Angeles Angels — as their Marketing Coordinator, after somehow snagging the job within the first ten minutes of the Winter Meetings Job Fair in 2014. If this had been an accident, my boss, Director of Marketing Matt Kowallis, was gracious enough to pretend like he did it on purpose. If so, he kept up the charade even after he had to show me how to use a fax machine (It was like reading the original Canterbury Tales: basically familiar but also totally incomprehensible).
I don’t know how else to convince you that Matt Kowallis is a madman other than this: He gave me the passwords to the 66ers’ social media accounts and traded off emceeing games with me every other day. Suddenly, I had access to a huge audience for my
dumb highly sophisticated and well-thought-out puns. It was every former collegiate comedian’s dream, and I was rewarded on Twitter both with boos (the highest form of compliment for a pun) and praise (referred to as “the most humorous MiLB twitter,” a description that I will cling to for the rest of my life).
It was also a lot of fun doing social media experiments— perhaps that’s too lofty a term, but it was always interesting to see what types of posts got what reactions. I took over social media in June and quickly realized how underutilized a tool it is and how powerful it can be. It convinced me even more that teams need to be quick to change and keep up with technology and culture. I went from posting nothing but promo graphics on Instagram (CONFESSION: I had to Google “how to post a picture to Instagram” my first day at the helm) to posting dugout pics, sunsets and upcoming giveaways. The likes increased at least threefold and so did the followers.
Meanwhile, in real life, emceeing games was a weird marriage of improv, sketch comedy, and stand-up that I soon came to love. It wasn’t easy; there was a lot of interaction with people of all ages, and a lot of awkwardly waiting with them in the dugout while an inning before a promo game dragged on, so they became my guinea pigs for improving my social skills with strangers. It was not an entirely futile exercise: My small talk game has shot up, y’all. Marked improvement. I am definitely a human and definitely not an alien.
Of course, I did more than just force my humor upon the world. When I wasn’t gracing cyberspace with gems like “Brandon Bayardi? More like Brandon Go-yard-i!” and an ignored attempt to get the Stockton Ports to rename themselves the Stockton Jorts, I was wearing the many proverbial hats that come with working in the minor leagues. Helping plan theme nights, making sales calls, transporting ballplayers, going to community appearances, and of course pulling tarp at least twice all were opportunities for me to learn new things, and learn I did. It was a good year for that.
So, back to where it all started: Was going to the Winter Meetings last year worth it? Absolutely. I made valuable connections, started putting my name out there, and got a coveted Job. For real, if you’re on the fence about going and you are sure you want to work in baseball, go to the Meetings. You will meet so many people and odds are at least one of them will be able to help you in some way. I was also glad that I had written the Job Seeker Journals; it stood out on my resume, I could point people directly to it, and my family finally found out what my life is like. And of course, who could forget the invaluable mentorship of MiLB’s own Ben Hill, now an adoptive uncle of at least four.
Don’t worry, I know the question on the tips of your collective fingers. “But Julie,” you type, “what next? Is the reign of terror remaining on the West Coast?”
No. This horror show is going back on the road. After the season ended, I accepted a job as Promotions Assistant with my old team in Illinois, the Kane County Cougars, where I look forward to old friends, great ideas and some fine baseball (if less-than-desirable weather). Three people in California told me I have a Chicago accent after making me say “milk” ten times, which was news to me, so now I can be secure back among my own similarly-inflected people. I’ll be starting that position in January.
So, there’s the deets, the haps, the scoop, the 411, the update, the lowdown. Thanks for reading (unless you skipped to the end, which, I don’t blame you), thanks to Ben for allowing this to keep happening for some reason, and thanks to everyone who has ever worked with or employed me. You’re the best.
I’ll leave you with a quote from Agent Dale Cooper of Twin Peaks:
“Harry, I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.”
Thanks, Julie. 2015’s group of Job Seeker Journal writers will be introduced in a MiLB.com article on Friday, which leads me to an apropos Twin Peaks quote of my own:
Throughout this year’s Winter Meetings in San Diego, four attendees of the PBEO Job Fair have agreed to keep a journal chronicling their employment-seeking experiences (meet them all HERE.). In this, her fourth and (for now) final installment, Julie Brady
Read all of Julie’s posts HERE.
“I shall have to think about it… I’ll do it.”
-Roger De Bris, The Producers
“This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.”
-Morpheus, The Matrix
“I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, job seekers of the PBEO job fair!”
-Aragorn, Return of the King, basically
A great thing about the Winter Meetings is that, when you don’t have to stress out about finding a job, you can really just sort of hang out, enjoy yourself, and watch the chaos. There’s so much happening at any given time that it’s not hard to find something to do.
Since I had an abundance of free time on Wednesday, thanks to my new status as Employed American, I decided to go sightsee the stars at the Hyatt until the Trade Show opened for the day. I set up on the second-ish floor, where MLB Network and other TV and radio stations were located, and tried to act as if I weren’t blatantly using other peoples’ job duties as entertainment. No sir, nothing here on this wall but us flies.
As it turns out, I had chosen a great location. Several baseball power players walked back and forth, some even hanging out in small clusters in front of me. Most of them I didn’t recognize, but there’s a look that certain old guys in nice suits have that screams, “I make big decisions!” A few of them I did recognize, though: Kenny Williams, John Hart, Mike Scioscia, Joe Maddon and Theo Epstein (with a fairly sizable posse), Kim Ng and Terry Ryan, at the very least. I figured that probably none of them were interested in talking to one of the millions of early-20ish people hanging around, so I stayed put and just creepily watched. No regrets.
After a while, I went and grabbed lunch with Liana and then went to the Trade Show. This was strategically planned— since it was the last day, we knew that they would be handing out free stuff left and right. That’s another thing that Liana is good at, in addition to being able to talk to anyone about anything: getting free stuff. I’m actually writing this from under a very cozy Winter Meetings blanket courtesy of MV Sport. Additional gains were a glasses case made out of baseball material, checkered sunglasses and a huge freaking bar of chocolate from a health insurance company. It made packing for the flight back a little more difficult, but again: no regrets.
I had a final interview that afternoon with Lara Juras, Vice President of HR with the Atlanta Braves, although it was purely informational since I had already accepted Inland Empire’s job offer. It turns out that Lara Juras is one of the coolest and nicest people around, and she got me all preemptively excited about next year’s Winter Meetings, especially the Women in Baseball seminar. She also turned out to be a friend of Mike Veeck’s, which I am all about. It went really well, and it was nice walking out of the interview room one last time without having to worry.
Then it was Gala time at Petco Park. It was definitely top three on my list of “Strangest Events I Have Ever Gone To” (below a Flaming Lips concert but above the Macy’s Day Parade). I don’t really know how to explain it other than I feel pretty confident that the decorations were planned by someone who has never experienced winter but has very strong feelings about what winter is like. Not that it was bad! But it was definitely interesting. Bubbles masquerading as snow, an actual pile of snow brought in to create a sledding experience, girls in plastic balls and girls doing acrobatic stunts hanging from ribbons, a Christmas train, an inflatable snow globe… it was very surreal. At the Gala you could see a very clear difference between those of us from warm states and those of us from cold states. Warm-staters were out of their minds with joy; cold-staters exchanged knowing glances.
There was also an abundant amount of free food and drinks, which was literally sweet (I embarked on a scavenger hunt for chocolate cake pops after a heads-up from my new boss. Amazing). We spent a lot of the evening hanging out with the Kane County Cougars contingent, and it was nice catching up. It was all capped off by a guided tour of the Padres clubhouse. Petco is a beautiful ballpark, and I look forward to someday getting to see it when it’s not living a double life as a Dali-esque winter wonderland.
Then the party was over and they kicked us all out and we said our goodbyes and headed home. The 65 degree temperature change I experienced today was made easier by the knowledge that it’s only temporary; in about three weeks, I will be living in an entirely different climate.
This week in San Diego went about as well as I could have possibly hoped. I met some awesome people, did some really cool things and ate a lot of food. Not every industry has an annual event of this scope and entertainment, and that’s just another way among so many in which I’m extremely lucky. I can’t thank everyone who helped me out enough (Ben! Looking at you for the opportunity to force people to read what I have to say!), and I’m sure the connections I’ve made here will persist throughout the years. Let me go full cheese here to conclude: I can’t believe it’s over, but I know that it’s only just beginning.
Winter Meetings by the Numbers!
3: number of weeks that the Winter Meetings felt like they lasted
4: number of days the Winter Meetings actually lasted
70: degrees in San Diego
25: degrees in Chicago
10: number of Important Baseball Executives who, in the span of an observed two hour period, tried to go into an out-of-order bathroom and got confused (most prominent: Mike Scioscia)
4: hours of sleep a night
6: hours after standing next to Dick Enberg at the Trade Show that I realized that it was Dick Enberg
Too numerous to count: number of times pointing out how weird it is to hear Christmas music while you’re outside sweating
Legion: number of job seekers
Bunches: amount of free stuff from the trade show
14: number of interviews I had, canceled, or had to turn down
1: job offer received and accepted
66: with “ers,” the name of my new team!
Thanks to Julie for taking the time to write about her job-seeking experiences throughout the Winter Meetings. We’ll check back in with her, and her three employment-seeking compatriots, later in the offseason. Stay tuned!
Throughout this year’s Winter Meetings in San Diego, four attendees of the PBEO Job Fair have agreed to keep a journal chronicling their employment-seeking experiences (meet them all HERE.). In this, her third installment, Julie Brady banishes the metaphorical asteroid.
Read all of Julie’s posts HERE.
Sometimes everything just goes wrong, you know? Your water bed springs a leak, you trip over your shoes, your maintenance check bounces, you die in a botched bank robbery, and then you have to live it all over again for the rest of eternity (I’ve been watching a lot of X-Files). Things pile on and it’s so hard to imagine that it’ll be ok again one day.
And then sometimes everything goes magically, incredibly, beautifully right. Sometimes it’s 10:30 a.m. on the first interview day of the Job Fair and you’re walking away from the Hilton with the promise of a job offer. In California. Where it’s warm, and there’s In-N-Out Burger, and mountains, and so much baseball.
Starting on January 5th, I will begin work as Marketing Coordinator for the Inland Empire 66ers in San Bernardino, California. That’s the first time I’ve written that out and, man, does it feel good. I didn’t want to jinx it by writing about it thoroughly or really at all yesterday, but now it’s official and all I have to do is find a printer to sign the agreement, so I can dish on the deets I know you’re all dying to hear.
In the two or so hours I spent applying for jobs at the San Diego Convention Center between Sunday afternoon and Monday, I dropped off probably 40 resumes. I carefully wrote down all of the job information for the positions I was applying for in the job posting room, then I carefully wrote that information in the top right-hand corner of my resume, then I carefully put all 40 resumes in the right resume boxes for the teams to pick up. There were more full-time positions than I thought there would be, but there were also a lot of people applying for all of them. I was just crossing my fingers and hoping for an interview. I’ve always been of the mindset that if I get the interview, I’m getting the job. Improv, people. It works.
And then, Bruce Willis stepped up to the plate and blasted that friggin’ asteroid to Nibiru. Mixed metaphors? Who’s ever heard of mixed metaphors?
Some background here: I spent the last half of my summer with the Kane County Cougars hanging out in the PA booth as often as I could, usually eating my stereotypical-intern-dinner of chicken tenders and fries (it was the most food for the least money). That’s where I realized that promotions and marketing is where I wanted to work. I’m an entertainer. It’s what I do. I want people to have fun. Scouting, analysis, player development, it would all be cool and fun and great, but I want to host the next Disco Demolition (I think we’re on Part 3 now). I want to have one idea in my life as innovative as the exploding scoreboard after a home run. I want to introduce something to baseball that baseball realizes it needs, and doesn’t know how it lived without.
It was in this PA booth that I got to know the PA announcer, Kevin Sullivan— Sully to friends and enemies. Sully is the kind of irreverent, brutally honest guy that either scares you away or draws you straight in (please realize that that is a compliment). When Sully realized that I could take his humor and throw it right back, I was granted Unofficial Rights to Sit in the Back of the PA Booth, Whenever. And it was a lot of fun. It was a fantastic backstage look, and I love going behind the scenes. Sully’s been in pro baseball for almost as long as I’ve been alive (but not so long in reverse-dog years), so when I wasn’t making jokes at appropriately timed intervals, I was keeping my mouth shut and learning a lot. And laughing a lot.
So, since it’s who you know, not what you know, Sully messaged me on Facebook Sunday night with a connection, the director of marketing for the 66ers. At 8 a.m. on Monday, I texted the number he gave me. By 8:30 a.m., we had a meeting set up for later at Starbucks. At 10 a.m. I found him and we talked about the team and the open positions and how I might fit in. And at 10:30 a.m., I was calling my mom and telling her I was moving to San Bernardino, baby.
So, although I still went to a bunch of interviews that day and signed up for a bunch more for today and tomorrow (better safe than sorry), I did so in sort of a stress-free dream state. It was so improbable. My very first interview of the whole thing was the one that landed me a job –I couldn’t believe it. I brought 150 resumes, business cards, a fatalistic attitude… and it all it took was one interview, an hour into the first day.
Talk about relief. Talk about gratitude. Talk about luck.
Today, after I accepted the offer and went to breakfast with my new team, I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was no need to do the whole job-posting-interview-scheduling song and dance, no need for me to walk another five miles. So I went back to the Hyatt, watched Ken Rosenthal pace around for a while, and then decided to go take a nap, because, well, I could. And it was glorious. My feet were almost as happy as I was.
Tomorrow is the last day of this crazy four-day experience, although it feels like it’s already been at least two weeks. I’m expecting to spend most of my time at the baseball trade show (free stuff!) and at the Hyatt, since I don’t need to go back to do job fair things. Then, it’s capped off with the gala at Petco Park, and everyone says goodbye and goes home to sleep for eight straight days, or so I assume. It’s been a total whirlwind, the busiest few days of my life, and although it’s been exhausting, I’m sorry that it’s almost over.
Congrats to Julie on the new job! Stay tuned for one more update from her this week, which will run on the blog Friday. (Thursday is a travel day for all involved).
Throughout this year’s Winter Meetings in San Diego, four attendees of the PBEO Job Fair have agreed to keep a journal chronicling their employment-seeking experiences (meet them all HERE.). In this, her second installment, Julie Brady meets a lot of people, does a lot of stuff, and staves off cosmic doom for at least one more day.
Read all of Julie’s posts HERE.
This is a long one, so please, get comfortable. I’ll wait.
It is 12:44 am. I’m lying in bed, and I’m scared to look at my feet. I’m scared that maybe they are not there anymore. I’m scared that if they are there, they may be purple and blotchy and useless and we may have to amputate. As long as I don’t look, the mystery persists, and it’s fine. Fine! Everything’s fine.
I don’t know if this is common knowledge or what, but the San Diego Convention Center, where the PBEO Job Fair is taking place, is pretty much a full mile long. You can probably see it from orbit. Heck, you can probably see it from Pluto. And guess how much of it job seekers have to walk? If your guess was “a lot,” then you are exactly right. There is a lot— a lot— of walking involved, between the resume workroom and the job posting room and the interview scheduling room and the actual interview room and the other workroom that apparently nobody knows about because despite its enormous size it was almost completely empty. Although, in retrospect, that may have been because nobody wanted to walk even more. I don’t blame them. There were points today where I wasn’t sure if my feet had the resolution and willpower to keep my whole mass upright, but they did. Feet, you’re the MVP of the day. Thank you, feet. I hope you are still there.
I’ve been up since 6 am, and I have basically been doing stuff since 6 am. To be fair, the first hour and a half of doing stuff was trying to go back to sleep, but as always ends up happening, I gave in to the harsh reality of being awake and got my butt down to the Convention Center (thanks for the ride and the housing, Hisers! You are the best). From there, I applied to at least a dozen more jobs that were newly listed in the job posting room, and set up an interview at Starbucks for later in the morning.
Here is an important note: if you are going to meet a potential employer at Starbucks for an interview, and you are in a downtown city area, you should make sure you know which Starbucks they mean so you don’t end up standing outside the closed convention area Starbucks and then realize after a phone call that it’s the one at the Hilton and power-walk in uncomfortable flats all the way over there. While this is good exercise, it does result in things such as three band-aids on your feet in various places (you know, if they still exist in corporeal form).
Luckily, I seemed to be forgiven for my delayed Hilton-Starbucks arrival, and the good vibes generated from that interview persisted for the rest of the day. I would have been happy with just two or three interviews; by the end of the day, I had done five, with four set up for Tuesday and one set up for Wednesday. I felt really good about all of them, and as I suspected before this all began, the magic words are “Bill” and “Veeck” and “I want to be.” I also suspect that tomorrow, I will have some more to say about one of the teams I interviewed with, but more on that probably, uh, tomorrow. I have also been talking about improv as a life skill basically nonstop at these things. You guys. Improv. Improv! IMPROV!
I did take a break from the Convention Center in the middle of the day to check out the Hyatt, which is where the center of activity of the Winter Meetings is. I’m much better at placing names to Twitter avatars than I am to faces, so I didn’t really know who anyone was, but it was cool being there amongst all the cameras, signage, and well-dressed, frantic people. Clearly, this was where Important Things were happening.
Then I went back and applied for more jobs and had more interviews and walked a lot more. At this point, I want to mention that I was in no way doing this alone. By some universal serendipity, at the Business of Baseball seminar yesterday, the girl who sat next to me turned to me and said, “Hi, I’m Julie.” Somewhat dumbstruck, I had to answer, “Me too!” Not only this, but a girl in front of us mentioned working for a Cubs Class A affiliate near Chicago. Extremely dumbstruck, I had to answer, “Me too.” Turns out, Hannah was an intern for the Cougars the summer before I was, and we had sat by each other by total coincidence. From there, our group has expanded, and I’m proud to say that it’s a strong little coalition of women trying to make it in this male-dominated industry (there are also a few dudes, but women! Yeah!).
One of these women is Liana Louie, who is switching fields from health care to baseball, in a move bolder than invading Russia in the winter. Liana has a mean eye for fashion, merchandising, and retail, as I found out at the opening of the Trade Show, and Liana is also among the best I have ever seen at starting conversations and making friends with completely random people. It’s kind of incredible.
I mention this because, at the Hyatt tonight (after finally meeting up with Ben, Katie, Darius, and Sean, which was a lot of fun!), Liana was a force of nature. Every time I sauntered over, she was talking to a scout here or a minor league GM there or this guy from MLB Network XM radio over there (all of whom were fascinating, helpful people). This culminated in a boom-boom series of events in the lobby, where she made the move to introduce both of us to the guy with white hair and black glasses— turns out, Joe Maddon is just as nice as he seems, which is very— and then to do the same to Kim Ng, who is just an incredible human being. I entered a state of mild shock for the last half hour or so of the night (which had the helpful double effect of turning the spongy mass beneath my ankles into something resembling appendages for a while longer), and it’s all thanks to Liana. You go, girl.
And now I’m in bed, and it’s 1:17 am, and I have my first interview of the day at 9:30. I’m still trying to get used to Christmas lights in palm trees and hearing “Jingle Bell Rock: when I’m outside without a jacket. I’m figuring out the best way to carry a suspiciously heavy shoulder bag filled with resumes without decimating the rest of my body. And, of course, I’m learning. I never stop learning. From interviewers, from co-job-seekers, and from those already firmly in the industry.
That unemployment asteroid has paused in its descent. It’s still there, scientists are still trying to figure out how to avoid it, but its terrible forward motion has ceased. I can only hope that, by tomorrow night, Bruce Willis has cracked it in half with his bare hands and thrust it out of the atmosphere towards opposite ends of the universe (again, I assume that this is what happens in Armageddon). All I can do now is interview, interview again, wait, and hope.
There will be more to come from Julie, and her three fellow Job Seeker Journal writers, on Wednesday. Feet don’t fail her now.
Throughout this year’s Winter Meetings in San Diego, four attendees of the PBEO Job Fair have agreed to keep a journal chronicling their employment-seeking experiences (meet them all HERE.). In this, her first installment, Julie Brady compares urban locales, sees improv in everything and displays an unabashed enthusiasm for elaborate apocalypse metaphors.
Day One. San Diego. Winter Meetings. It has begun.
Did you know that San Diego has hills? Chicago doesn’t have any of those! Did you know that San Diego is warm in the winter? Chicago is not. Did you know that there are foghorns in San Diego? Not in Chicago. I like it here.
Today, in San Diego, I finally got the answer to that age-old question, “Which is more uncomfortable, spending four hours on a plane or eight hours in a chair at a seminar?” The answer is the plane, somewhat unsurprisingly, although I do credit the flight in from Chicago last night with enabling me to have the most satisfying back-cracking experience of my life. Maybe if there had been 20 or so amazing speakers giving business of baseball and general life advice on the plane, I would have enjoyed it more. Unfortunately, though, there were not.
Luckily, the Business of Baseball seminar, held from 8 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. on Sunday, supplied what American Airlines could not. Everyone that spoke was excellent — standouts included the legendary (all of them) Kim Ng, Jean Afterman (Esq.), Dr. Jan Bell, and Todd Parnell. Women, killin’ it; dudes, killin’ it. Yeah, maybe it was eight hours sitting in a chair, but it was eight entertaining and educational hours! Martie Cordero told us about making the baseball experience fun for everyone; Robert Ford let us know how difficult it is to break into broadcasting; Pat O’Conner gave us the knowledge that you should really not address mail to “Miss Pat O’Conor.” That’s not even touching on the rest of them, who clearly knew their stuff, and dished out some seriously take-able advice.
Since I am kind of a crazy person, I see parallels to improv comedy in pretty much every aspect of life, and this was especially true during the seminar. Listening as a skill or art? Improv. Making your coworkers look good? Improv. Being confident in yourself and your decisions? Improv. Everything is improv. Everything is baseball, but everything is improv. Seriously, improv comedy has given me more life skills than I can even count. I would strongly advise anyone who ever wants to work anywhere to take an improv class; it can only help.
Tomorrow is when stuff really starts getting wild, with interviews beginning, although I applied for probably 30 jobs in about 20 minutes after the seminar (sorry, trees). I’m approaching it with sort of a hysteric serenity, if that isn’t too oxymoronic. From August through the first half of November, the whole Job Fair was sort of this dark shadow looming in the dustier corners of my mind. The second half of November, I realized that wow this is happening, like, really soon and freaked out for a little while. Now, though, I’ve reached nirvana, or at least an acceptance of the inevitable. I imagine it’s sort of like what would happen if scientists discovered an asteroid that they said would “I don’t know, probably hit and destroy the Earth.” Stage one would be trying not to think about the imminent cosmic doom. Stage two would be realizing that, oh man, everything is going to go wrong and nothing will be good ever again. Stage three would be acceptance— like, yeah, maybe this asteroid will destroy this planet and everything on it, but maybe it won’t, and that’s cool.
So that’s kind of where I’m at. Maybe the asteroid of unemployment will fling itself from the far reaches of the galaxy and hit me straight in the face, and if that happens, it happens, but maybe Bruce Willis will swoop in and offer me a job and save the planet, and that would be pretty neat (is that even what happens in Armageddon? I’ve never seen Armageddon, but I assume it ends with Bruce Willis offering me a job). It’s only been one day and I feel like I’ve gotten the kind of advice that usually takes a year to glean, so absolutely no matter what happens, this whole experience is thoroughly worth it.
Barring imminent cosmic doom, there will be much more to come from Julie, and her three fellow Job Seeker Journal writers, on Tuesday.