Positive Reframing

2009 was not a good year for a lot of people, lawyers included. Probably it was my least active year professionally during the past 25 years. There were times when I sat at my desk thinking that I should probably go biking, home, to the gym. But at the end of the year I found that my productivity and billings were actually not so bad and I had accomplished other things including giving several seminars at AHBL, writing an article (hopefully to be published soon), cultivating friendships and planning to build a house in Mexico – not bad in hindsight.

Positive reframing, ability to adapt and the courage to stay in the present are skills we can develop to get the most out of life. Take for example, Beverly Willett whose article appeared in the NYT Magazine – Jan. 17, 2010

"The past year brought about setbacks for many. For me, it signaled the end of my 25-year marriage, the loss of membership in the family medical plan and the necessity of re-entering the workplace at midlife after a long hiatus as a stay-at-home mom. The market crash gobbled up a big chunk of my modest retirement account, and the divorce litigation left me with a pile of bills.

So in November, when my friend Terry mentioned that the company she worked for needed extra help right away, I followed what had fallen in my path. At least I could earn enough to foot the heating bill for a couple of months while I spruced up my résumé.

“I guess you’d call it a fulfillment house,” Terry said, describing the company. People placed orders for merchandise over the Web or by phone, and Terry’s organization fulfilled the orders. The items ranged from T-shirts and teddy bears to coffee mugs and casserole dishes.

The following Monday I showed up for my part-time holiday job. The pay was $12 an hour, before taxes, with no health coverage, sick leave or other benefits. During the first few weeks, I sat in a chair all day and typed in orders, a far cry from my early days as a lawyer representing clients with household names.

Right after I got my first paycheck, my car broke down, and heating-oil money was diverted to the repair shop. During Week 2, the 20 to 25 hours I thought I’d be working dwindled to 13. But I called a halt to my pity party when I counted up all my friends who lost their jobs in 2009. And that’s when I began to feel satisfaction from the work I did get. Although the job involved inputting product codes and shipping data for several hours at a time, it somehow got me in touch with real people with real lives in real towns. And it gave me glimpses into worlds other than my own that, for at least the course of a workday, melted preoccupation with my own troubles.

The scrawl on some of the orders reminded me of my 79-year-old mother’s. As hard as it apparently was for some of my customers to hold a pen, they nonetheless included handwritten notes with their $4.99 orders that said “thank you.” Of course there were orders that came with requests to include personal notes on the packing slips; others came with meticulous instructions for sending identical gifts to a number of family members around the country. My own grandmother, who was proud but of modest means, cheerfully handed out $5 McDonald’s gift certificates at holiday time to an ever-expanding contingent of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Reading these notes made me long to be back in my grandmother’s tiny living room with my own family members, all of whom now live more than 250 miles away.

By Week 4, as the holidays approached, my duties shifted into Phase 2 of the fulfillment process. That meant I took inventory, pulled puzzles and potholders and other merchandise from the shelves, constructed and packed boxes, applied postage and hauled packages to the loading dock, where U.P.S. picked them up.

Typing in orders had made my backside ache from all the sitting; after the shift in duties, I was on my feet all day, carrying, bending, lifting and crouching. But as I bubble-wrapped breakables, something else began to register with me: all the work that went into getting the parcels I’ve received over the years safely to my door.

A couple of weeks before Christmas, the bone spur on my left foot flared up so badly from all the standing that I hobbled around for two days. All my nails broke, too, and I came home at night with compound paper cuts. My grand plans of tackling my massive to-do list in the evening after I got off work quickly fizzled: it took all my effort just to cook dinner, throw in a load of laundry and ice down my lower back. But make no mistake — my employers treated me well. They paid more than others pay for the same work and made sure we hydrated and took lunch breaks. The other part-timers I worked with smiled and always offered a hand. And at the end of each day I felt that oxymoronic “good tired.”

The job has now ended, but that’s O.K. There was no way I could begin to whittle away at my substantial debt at that pay, and my physical and mental stamina make me a better sitter than a stander. But I needed to get back on my feet, and this was a way to start.

Even with all my years raising a family and working long hours as an attorney, I can say I’ve never worked so hard in all my life. And yet it might turn out to be the best job I’ve ever had."

Beverly Willett is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn.