an introduction of sorts
After 20 years of consistently working full-time jobs, I stepped out on my own in 2023. It was a bittersweet transition, but one that I would immediately appreciate. The nonprofit organization that I had directed for 8 years was running on lean resources in a post-pandemic world that hadn’t fully recovered our 2+ years of lost revenue. In terms of professional growth, I was at the top of a one-person food chain at a guild that was struggling to stay financially stable. Making ends meet with my payroll left little to operating the organization, let alone any room for creature comforts like health benefits and a 401K. When we parted ways, I felt relieved. They didn’t have to wonder how to pay me, and I wouldn’t have to muster up the courage to ask for benefits and a retirement plan.
I thought I would grieve this change more than I actually did. My entire world had revolved around breweries and festivals for the greater portion of a decade. I had gone through the ranks of being a social media manager, marketing director, and eventually a Jill-of-all-trades as the only full-time employee at the nonprofit. I spent these years playing to my strengths; communications, community building, and event coordination. As we grew, I pivoted to education and advocacy; taking part in lobbying efforts at every level of government. But while I had pivoted to serving our membership with these various skills, there still remained a chunk of the population that had no clue as to what I was even being paid to do in the first place.
I never expressed the majority of the microaggressions and gossip I endured during my tenure. Late-night calls and emails somehow pinning pandemic closures and unjust policy on a powerless me. I had become the customer service complaint line from 2020-2022; constantly apologizing or trying to reason with people about things that were out of my control. During this time, I got married and took my first long vacation (21 days) in years. When I returned, struggling business owners had commented that I was living a luxurious life, gallivanting across Europe without a care in the world. It felt petty, and though it hurt me, I was more dedicated to helping businesses rather than cause a stir with my wounded ego. I had shoved these feelings deep down inside of me in order to power through during a time when small businesses were hanging by a thread. So when it was time for me to move on, I felt like I could breathe again.
There are a lot of things (and people) that I miss from my days in that industry, and I am grateful for the time spent discovering my best skills and understanding an industry inside-out. These days, I’ve prioritized getting back to my creative self. Since going solo, I have run a cultural magazine, submitted my writing to various publications, and even gotten licensed as a travel specialist in order to launch my own boutique travel agency. I’ve taken up gardening, started sleeping normal hours, and I’ve even shaken off that terrible anxiety that used to consume me on days when I’d be someone’s verbal punching bag.
Allow me to reintroduce myself… I’m Franny. Nice to meet you.
