My new business card

Hear me now and understand. He’s gonna buy me some piece of mind. And if that piece of mind won’t stay, I’m gonna find myself a better way. And if that better way ain’t so, I’ll ride with the tide and go with the flow. And that’s why I keep on shoutin’ in your ear. Say yeah, yeah, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, uh, oh.

Carly Simon and James Taylor

Playing the back nine.

When our book first came out, I got an email from an old friend who was a stellar entertainment lawyer. He was grateful that Changing Lanes was being published just as he was turning 65 and setting out on his own path to renewal. While he was excited about his prospects (he has since been appointed a Los Angeles County Superior Court judge by Gov. Schwarzenegger), he referenced many peers who were not as sanguine with their situations. Let me quote from Lou Meisinger’s wonderful note:

“A good friend of mine is mildly to moderately depressed about his very successful career as a lawyer coming to an end. When I asked him what the problem was, he responded that he was concerned about becoming ‘irrelevant.’ Aside from good intentions and public service, I suspect that this explains a lot of late in life career changes. Or perhaps it’s just another way of not hanging on too long (like many professional athletes) and tarnishing an otherwise successful career. I’m sure your book will explain all this to those of us who have made the turn and are now playing the back nine.”

Lou hit on one of the key issues we discuss in Changing Lanes: the need to reassert your identity in a way that is independent of the career affiliation which has sustained you financially and emotionally for so long. Often, the more successful you are, the harder the task to redefine yourself. It’s natural to feel confident when everyone is validating who you are in the context of your career performance.

Nobody does it better, makes me feel sad for the rest. Nobody does it half as good as you, baby, you’re the best. Carly Simon

But without that context, will you still feel relevant? Lou’s friend’s concern is one we can all understand. Susan and I wrote about this in our book. We suggested an exercise to encourage our readers to make this difficult transition:

“Trash your old business cards and indulge yourself in a bit of ceremonial mourning, if you must. Then march over to a fine stationery store and print up new calling cards. Just for fun, consider this quote for your first set—right where your title used to be:

The business card exercise is meant to get you through the transition period as you deal with the different challenge of redefining yourself not to others, but to yourself. Lou’s friend spoke about a fear of feeling irrelevant. I take that to mean he was afraid of losing his sense of self-worth, which he associated with his career. So it seems to most of us that Job 1is to seek an identity that is meaningful. Meaningful in your own eyes, sure, but also to others, if you are honest about your need for external validation.

From first-hand experience, I can tell you this transition thing is tougher than it seems.

When I retired, I stressed out about facing the inevitable question—“So what do you do?”—upon meeting anyone new: I armed myself with a selection of business cards, hoping these would ease the dread I felt at the prospect of introducing myself. “Retired Partner” under my old firm’s logo felt safe but was more about who I used to be than who I am now. “Board Director” gave me status but only covered a fraction of my time. For a while, my “Publisher” card became my preferred hand-out, but curiously, I never introduced myself with that as my identity. Maybe it doesn’t work for me because I just don’t feel like a bona fide entrepreneur. I realized my difficulty, and one shared by many others, lay in crafting a new identity that is both relevant and authentic.  

Over time, I loosened up about this process and started having fun experimenting with some fanciful identities. I tried out “I’m an explorer” a few times. This intro turned out to be a pretty good conversation starter. You can borrow it if you like, but if you really need an ice-breaker, try out the one I heard at a recent book club meeting. One of the ladies introduced herself earnestly as a pole dancer. After a few seconds of stunned silence, we all had a good laugh about our secret anxieties about this dreaded moment.

Just this week, I think I finally cracked the code. I was invited to a women’s luncheon for small business owners. Before the program began, I was updating my host about how our book was doing, alerting her to check out our weekly blog and to look for a piece I am writing for the September issue of the Los Angeles Times Magazine. When it was my turn to stand up and introduce myself. I said, “I’m Jane Jelenko, and I’m a writer.” It came out completely naturally and it felt good.

Before that moment, I had not considered myself a writer. But I guess it’s an appropriate description of what I do now and more importantly—it is aligned with who I am. Tomorrow I’ll go out and order a new set of cards.

So go ahead and “ride with the tide and go with the flow.” Give yourself the time, energy and permission to experiment.

During the transition process, prepare an introduction that focuses not on your past, but your future. Don’t take yourself too seriously and for goodness sake, don’t stress out about finding your passion. You’ll know it when you see it.

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