Recognizing my potential to become a more secure person, and forced myself to skate at Hansie’s on a Sunday and say hello to Orville. Yes, I felt terribly uncomfortable as though Orry were sizing up every move that had received another coach’s attention. Of course, most of this was probably in my imagination, but I have heard Orry and others like him make comments about student loyalty. I had been a loyal student to the point of distressing myself, but I doubted that Orry had been an honorable coach. He had blown bubbles up my ass about the axel and double salchow without addressing my technical flaws. He created his own rendition of stars and substituted dance steps for moves in the field. Orville may have lost one student, but he still had a significant following at Hansie’s. Georgeanne swore by his technique, but her stiff skating certainly did not speak favorably of his teaching ability. Zach and some of the others could do an axel or a double, but none of their advanced jumps met the quality standard that I hoped to establish with Preston Reece.
The more I skated, particularly at Chestnut Valley with Preston, the more I wanted to skate, and the more motivated I became. A sense of wasting time whenever I was at work, especially if I was not busy, accompanied my eagerness to get back on the ice. My professional duties ebbed and flowed, occasionally coming in spurts that left me in a breathless flurry of activity, barely having time to shove a sandwich in my mouth for lunch. Other stints involved long tedious afternoons cruising the halls or surfing the Internet. I made decent money, but received skimpy raises, like my contemporaries. Consumer Solutions was a small company. The prevailing logic involved employee friendly policy rather than financial reward. I rarely had to stay late or work overtime (and absolutely never without compensation). Given a choice, I preferred my hours at Consumer Solutions to the thankless slavery of Contessa Cosmetics.
I could not complain about my job, it was a truly acceptable job. Although I was not a career hungry, ladder climber, it left me dissatisfied; but I did not crave the responsibility or longer hours inherent in a management position. Supervising one employee, who reported to me as a personal assistant, was enough. However, this satisfactory situation bored me. I was not growing intellectually and still relied on the same focus group skills I had learned as a master’s degree student, skills that I also applied to my doctoral research. While I may have refined my technique over the years, I had not developed anything new or branched out to become more versatile. I could have done this job without the doctorate; Victoria Perez had taught me everything I needed at the masters level.
Lack of challenge at work compelled me on the ice. I felt restless at my desk, longing to get back to the rink where I could expand my skating abilities. I wanted to straighten my salchow under the expert guidance of a former Olympian. Just as it had been time for me to move on from Hansie’s little rink, it was also time for me to move on professionally.
Searching for job listings, I analyzed what I really did for a living. As an idealistic student, I envisioned myself a consumer researcher helping companies to meet the needs of their clients. However, my actual function involved massaging data. Clients contracted the services of Consumer Solutions eager to promote “new and improved” products. Superficially, this sounds reasonable. However, many advertising claims are made from a legal standpoint rather than a practical one. The alleged effect may only be visible in a laboratory to trained panelists, in paired comparison tests, under standardized lighting. The average consumer may never actually observe the promised result. However, many people are not only swayed into making a purchase by clever marketing, it can also psychologically influenced them. The suggestion of an effect may cause the consumer to actually believe s/he sees a nonexistent phenomenon. This does not imply that all advertising claims are bogus. Certainly, many worthwhile consumer goods are available in the marketplace; but, the savvy shopper should recall the old adage: “if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is too good to be true.”
As a consumer researcher, I fit into the advertising scheme by shrewdly designing experiments that would provide statistical evidence supporting whatever the manufacturer wanted to print on the label or demonstrate in a television commercial. Over the years, I had become quite competent at my profession and could convince a housewife that clothing washed with the hero product was indeed whiter than an identical garment laundered with the competition. Manipulation of test conditions, observation protocol, and laboratory lighting could make a trained observer see a UFO, if that was what the client company wanted to assert in a glossy magazine ad.
Upon further inspection, doing this did not please me. I was no longer helping brides find the perfect wedding dress. I was convincing people they needed a product that, for all intents and purposes, did not really deliver the target benefit. Using my hard-earned education to deceive made me feel unethical and dishonest. It lumped me in the same category with coaches who stroke their students with axel promises and visions of unrealistic glory. I had just unloaded Orville for kissing my backside with deception, but I paid for Preston's lessons at Chestnut Valley by essentially doing the same thing under the guise of a doctoral diploma. Orry may have been a flim-flam man, but I was a hypocrite.
These revelations churned and stewed in my mind for a few weeks before sharing them with my husband. I had been bored at work for a long time. Much of that boredom had been shrouded first by marriage plans, then newlywed life, and was ultimately ignored in favor of ice skating. Maxwell was ten years older than me, and had not spent his entire career as a veterinarian. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in biochemistry, he took a corporate job and was quickly disillusioned. The upwardly mobile employees had MBA degrees. The laboratory personnel who earned higher salaries held graduate diplomas. Maxwell had worked hard for his education and found himself at a lowly technician’s grade. To improve his career potential his boss advised him to go back to school.
Max considered this advice and weighed his options. He could get a masters’ degree in business administration or biology at night. Or he could return to the university full-time as a doctoral student. Upon examining these unsavory options, he decided to apply to vet school, which would give him the potential to establish a veterinary hospital independently or in a partnership. Leaving the corporate environment appealed to Max, as did the versatility of a veterinary diploma.
My husband had been through a similar period of self-examination and encouraged me to do the same. With a teasing grin, he told me to apply to vet school, and we could open our own animal hospital in Maple Terrace. That wholesome image delighted me, but I could not stomach anatomy and physiology. However, prior to Max’s suggestion, I had never contemplated returning to school. I considered a Ph.D. a terminal degree, as Dr. Butler had always classified it. From my perspective, the doctorate was not necessarily a final accomplishment or the highest echelon of achievement in a certain field, it was terminal like a cancer. It was the end of the line, a road with no outlet, a fool who painted himself into a corner. I had specialized myself into obscurity and priced myself out of the market.
No, I did not want another job as a consumer researcher or advertising magician. But I did not know what else I wanted, aside from figure skating, and who in the hell would pay me to skate?
After careful consideration, I resigned from my position at Consumer Solutions that June. I had worked there for almost three years. I did not have another job lined up, nor did I know what I was going to do, other than hit the Chestnut Valley Figure Skating Club every morning. After years of school and plunging into a career that never exactly thrilled me, I was very fortunate to be able to indulge in some reflective time. As a married woman, I did not depend on my paycheck, and my self-worth was not entangled with my job title. While many people identify with their profession proudly declaring: “I am a policeman, an accountant, an engineer, or a stonemason”, I never equated my identity with what I did for a living. Rather, I defined myself during off-hours, time spent at the rink exploring my athletic and artistic potential.
My image of Melissa helped me to realize that I still was not the mature person I wanted to be. While the external trappings of adulthood were visible in my life, I lacked the self-assurance and presence of mind to take active control of my circumstances. I fretted intensely over a potential confrontation with Orville and was tremendously relieved to be rid of him. This situation had caused an undue amount of stress, and I was disgusted with myself for skipping skating and avoiding Hansie’s for the simple reason that I did not want to face Orville. Coaching relationships can be sticky, especially in a claustrophobic in-bred environment like Hans Koenig’s Ice Chalet. I simply had to develop more faith in my own judgment and learn to stand up for myself while remaining diplomatic.
Chapter 76 posted 7/15/03
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