Professional development can mean a lot of things. In order to grow, you have to be willing to open the lid on your hamster-ball of personal comfort and let in all those things which make you embarrassed or scared. It can be as simple as making a speech in front of others or communicating problems with an intimidating co-worker. Other times it might involve role-playing as a 35 year-old woman with other 35 year-old women when you’re actually a 21 year-old male.
As one of the professional development opportunities of my job, I got to attend a volunteer management conference for non-profits in no better place than Stripmall, The Couve’ Washington. Vancouver really isn’t that bad, but it’s a place that has let loose the reigns of economic growth in the face of impending money bags. Places which do this in the 21st century turn into expansive networks of stripmalls featuring multinational chains, massive apartment complexes and track-home developments with fancy names like “Ridgecrest Estates” or “Montezuma’s Grove”. What stale, poorly built monochromatic housing has to do with the 5th Aztecan Emperor of Tenochtitlan, I have no idea, but it’s a trend that’s not going anywhere, anytime soon.
Vancouver’s demographic includes three groups: twenty something post-high school deadbeats, middle-aged families who commute to Portland, and ultra-conservative old people. This volunteer conference involved a mix of the latter two, but with a twist. It was 98.7% women.
I found myself sitting at a roundtable of young-career to middle-aged women chatting about the things mothers who attend PTA meetings must chat about. The ringleader of the discussion bared an incredible resemblance in both physical appearance and personality to the character Charlotte from Sex in the City. With a burning passion for the Tualatin Wildlife Refuge but a “Mother-First” resolve, would be Charlotte rallied the women into awes and coos of adoration.
Screening processes for childcare were just not enough; clearly most places were stocked by real Charlie Manson types. The women all agreed, and told stories about their disapproval of prospective child-rearing services. A working women yet a mother first, Charlotte was a paradox of modernity at its finest. Her child would be suckling away firmly secured to her breast, and meanwhile she would be bitching out Brad in the sales department for this sub-par performance. Having your cake and eating it too, I think that’s what they call that.
Charlotte left the conference early to tackle nothing less than world hunger or the AIDS epidemic, and a communal tear was shed for her absence. If only we could all be a little more like Charlotte, life would be sunshine and rainbows; not global warming and Ethiopian genocide. I don’t know if I came out of that conference with any new skills for volunteer management, but I certainly came out with a refreshed appreciation for Charlotte and all that she does for the world.
God bless her.
Twenty Something Nightmare 