I
by Elieen Cunniffe — Age 48 — Havertown, PA
In another lifetime, I earned my living as a corporate communications manager. Public relations, employee communications, brochures, news releases—I pushed enough paper over the years to consume all of Sherwood Forest.
I only meant to stay in the corporate job long enough to earn the credentials to hang out my shingle as a freelance writer. I stayed much longer, though—in large part because my writing abilities were valued there. I became the “go-to girl” when a message had to be carefully crafted, when a speech really mattered. I prided myself on staying true to my writerly self, despite promotions, reorganizations and overtures from the marketing team to join their camp.
Then a most-unpleasant merger shook me from my slumber, forcing me to examine the work I was doing and the hamster-on-the-wheel I had become. I landed, blessedly, in a very different role in the newly merged company, managing community relations and bestowing contributions on nonprofit organizations. Again, I saw this as a temporary stop: Drained from the ugliness of the merger experience, I planned to regroup and find another job, in another company, as a communications manager.
Instead I discovered the joys of “corporate philanthropy” (an odd phrase, I know), the satisfaction of sending a check, rolling up my sleeves to help, sharing resources and making things happen on the other side of the tall black fence that ringed a corporate campus larger than some zip codes. At times I felt like Robin Hood—stealing from the rich, giving to the poor. I wasn’t actually stealing, of course; but I had the power to redistribute a little of the world’s wealth, and that felt amazingly good.
During the next big reorganization, I found myself constitutionally unable to accept a transfer back into corporate communications; I no longer had the stomach for that work. I opted instead for a generous “separation package”—I took the money and ran. I gave myself the gift of a sabbatical, joined a writing workshop, played with my family and friends, volunteered at will. After cashing in the last of my stock options, I began to search in earnest for another job, determined to remain on this side of the tall black fence. I’ve landed, for now, in an interim role as a fundraiser at my favorite theatre company. Appropriately, my first week ended with the opening-night celebration for a production of Robin Hood.
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