Helping your kids navigate the job hunt

There are certain things for which you go to Mom when you need help and certain things for which you generally go to Dad.

In our family, the kids approach Terry for assistance on a myriad of topics, especially anything having to do with cooking, owning a home or tackling the day-to-day challenges of domestic life.

The list of things in which I specialize is perhaps not as long, but I like to think it's equally impactful.

One of my areas of expertise is the world of work. Often when the kids create or update a resume, write a cover letter or fill out a job application, they ask me to review it.

I'm happy to do this. I also coach them on job interviews and proper methods of follow-up.

"What do I say if they ask me about my salary expectations?"

"What am I supposed to tell them if they ask me what my biggest weakness is?"

"How do I get across all of the reasons I'm a good fit for this position?"

I have ready answers for all of these questions because I've been involved in dozens of interviews in my life, both as an applicant and as an employer.

My daughter Melanie recently got a job working with a financial services firm. We talked through each step of the process, and I hope what I told her along the way was helpful. Well, either that or she managed to impress the firm's owners despite my counsel.

I don't think I've been quite as helpful getting my children to understand the realities of work once they actually get the job. That part I suppose you have to learn on your own.

I've just not been able to bring myself to tell them, "Hey, congrats on the new job! Now all you have to do is work full time for the next 45 years or so, try everything you can to save up enough money to retire, and live out your remaining years in more or less decent physical shape until you die and your kids pick up where you left off."

I have a feeling Terry would deliver a more positive message there.

There is something to be gained from every unhappy experience, even if we don't see it right away

Twenty-five years ago last night, I got maybe 90 minutes of sleep.

You may rightly question why there is a small space in my brain that stores this information. Please know I don't have a satisfactory answer for you.

But it's true that the night of September 29, 1996, was a restless one for me.

It was a Sunday evening, and the next day I was scheduled to start a new job as a plan document specialist at a firm called Self-Funded Plans, Inc. Basically, I wrote and edited health insurance documents.

I am now very good at being the new guy, having worked at a number of different organizations over the years. But at that point, I had almost no idea how to handle a new job.

For the previous eight years, since my first week in college, I had worked in the sports departments of daily newspapers: first as a sports agate clerk and later a staff writer for The News-Herald, then for a year with The Plain Dealer's Lake-Geauga Bureau, then back to The News-Herald for a five-year stay as a full-time sports writer.

And it was great. I loved almost every minute of it.

But as I've described before, it was never going to be a long-term gig for me. I thought it would be, but once Terry and I got married and started having kids, the nighttime hours and relatively low pay made for a bad combination when it came to raising a family.

So I saw the Self-Funded Plans job in the newspaper (OLD GUY ALERT), applied for it, and got it.

And I was so nervous.

To that point, I hadn't worked in a "real" office. Newsrooms look like real offices, but they're not. They're unique.

This was also a 9-to-5 job, which wasn't something I was at all used to.

I also didn't know if I would like it, which made me nervous.

All of these things came together to render me sleepless most of that evening. Midnight came and went, as did 1am, 2am, and 3am. I went out into the living room somewhere between 3 and 4 and still mostly couldn't sleep, but I strung together those 90 fitful minutes of rest on the couch before rising miserably at 6 o'clock.

It was a rough first day, both physically and mentally.

Ultimately, it wasn't a job I enjoyed very much. I spent most of my seven months there thinking I had made a big mistake leaving the comfort of newspapers and entering the world of health insurance.

But over time, it turned out to be a great move. From Self-Funded Plans I went to Advanstar and became the managing editor of Urology Times. It was largely my health care experience at Self-Funded that got me that position.

Then it was the combined health care experience at Self-Funded and Advanstar that helped me land my first PR position at The Cleveland Clinic. And that in turn led to a few very enjoyable and productive years at the prestigious Cleveland PR firm Dix & Eaton.

And so on. One position built on the next, and it has all landed me at a very happy, challenging, and frankly fun place in Goodyear.

All of which is to say that, as in many things, we have to force ourselves to consider the long term when we're unhappy in our current situation. Yes, you may need to make a change, but don't underestimate what you've learned from that miserable job or dead-end relationship.

Each of those experiences have made you you. And, if I may say it, you turned out pretty darn well.

The youngest child gets his first real job

My 15-year-old son Jack recently began working at the local Chick-Fil-A. It's a good first job for someone his age for all of the reasons you would expect: You build a work ethic, you learn to do the job even when you don't feel like it, you gain experience working with people (for better or worse), and of course you develop a much better appreciation for the value of money.

There's also this: When that first job is in fast food, you learn one of life's most painful lessons, which is that you really never want to know how the sausage is made.

This lesson applies to more than just fast food, of course, though I learned it literally when I worked at Wendy's in the mid-80s and vowed never to eat their chili again when I saw that the meat for it was just burgers that had been sitting on the grill too long (I have admittedly broken that vow several times since.)

More broadly, though, you learn that the actual process by which the goods and services we purchase daily are made is often surprisingly messy, painful, and in the case of food, disgusting.

Anyway, I say this is Jack's first "real" job, but it's not his first time earning money. For the last few years, he has earned $25 a week cutting grass for our neighbors Joe and Lisa. Over time they have afforded this opportunity to earn a modest summer income to four of our kids, I believe, and we're all grateful for it. They're great neighbors.

Still, this is the first time Jack has had to work within a place of business, learn skills he didn't previously have, and be accountable for every minute of his time during work hours. It's all part of growing up, but I'm a little torn by the fact that it's happening.

On one hand, it's obviously a positive thing. Anything that helps prepare your child to navigate the world of work is a helpful experience in my book.

Conversely, it's little Jack (little in the chronological sense...the boy is, after all, pushing 6-foot-2). He's the baby of the family, and as is always the case when he hits a certain milestone, it's the last time we'll go through that process as parents. To use a 19th-century word, it makes me feel a little melancholy.

But I'm still not going to abandon those Chick-Fil-A grilled chicken sandwiches, no matter what he tells me about how they're made.