Pretty impressive! I just took the typing test for SPEAKWRITE and passed it on the first try! The minimal typing requirements were 65 wpm (words per minute) at 90% accuracy. I scored a whopping…drum roll, please…71 wpm at 97% accuracy. And I wasn’t even fully awake or really trying hard. I was sitting up in my bed with my laptop placed on top of a pillow on my lap when I took the practice tests and then the real one.
SPEAKWRITE is one of a few lauded work-from-home jobs featured in a WRAL article. Allowing my curiosity to guide me during this next phase of life, I read a little about it and was intrigued. It hires contractors to type general and legal transcription for various companies. This took me back to those days in high school where you took Typing as one of your electives. I loved the rush of typing madly for timed typing drills to see how many words per minute you could do with little to no error. This skill has served me well over the years. In fact, it helped me to leave the shall we say drudgery of an eyeglass-blocking job, my first employment post-college, and put me on a brighter path to growth and potential. I know in these days being a secretary is not usually one’s first pick of a career path, but back in my day, it was a respectable job. Definitely way more desirable than blocking eyeglass lenses with a contraption that resembled a straightening comb heating dock. I wasn’t very good at it. Go figure.
This morning, while checking my personal emails, I came across an article written by Peter Bregman, contributor to various respected news and premier organizations and author of 18 Minutes: Find Your Focus, Master Distraction, and Get the Right Things Done. It was “Find Your Sweet Spot – and Stay There.” This article was one of multiple clues I’ve been getting from the Universe over the years that there’s something more out there for me. My God, what is my sweet spot? I’ve been so far off my sweet spot for years. Just recently, I confessed to my boss that most of my life and my career choices have been about survival, not about thriving...except once.
I took a leap, hoping to land in what I felt was my sweet spot. My son will remember. He was in high school and I was a substance abuse counselor. I was working crazy hours and running an office singlehandedly in Garner for its parent agency in Raleigh. It was exciting at first and I’ll admit it was quite an ego-boost. Here I was a new hire and was given such an opportunity, but it wasn’t long before I realized it wasn’t all it was cracked to be. As I reflect on my path, I had obtained an associates degree in Human Services with a specialization in substance abuse. I thought I had finally found the entrance, albeit through the back door, to counseling. You see, I had previously sought to get a Masters Degree in Counseling from a local university but was denied as I had been out of college for more than 10 years. What a way to thumb my nose at them and show off how a God yes trumps any "no."
Sounds good doesn’t it. What a backdrop for a foot-stompin testimony at a church gathering or a success story for an African American woman from a small rural town! Though I was effective and my performance praised, one encounter changed everything--well, two actually, but I’m only going to talk about one. After the conclusion of my weekly substance abuse group, a group member asked to speak with me privately. I consented. He said to me, “Miss Hinton, you’re not safe in this office. I live in this neighborhood and you working here by yourself just ain’t safe.” The blood left my face. In that moment, I really paid attention to the inklings I had but dismissed. Inklings like there was only one way in and out of our second-floor office suite. Further, my office was sequestered on the opposite end of that entire second floor in a corner. I was a sitting duck! No buzzer underneath my desk if I was in trouble. No exit not even a fire escape. Small windows. And oftentimes, especially on group nights I was there until 9:30 or 10 at night, often approaching my car in a dimly lit parking lot. Eewwwwwwwwwww. With this heightened sense of urgency, I asked my supervisor to employ some safeguards or to return me to the Raleigh Office. Needless to say, my urgency wasn’t his. After almost a month of nothing done, I submitted my resignation.
Barraged with thoughts of impending doom yet equally challenging thoughts of lack and poverty from not having another job lined up, I was in a state of absolute torture. Seemed that either decision was the wrong one. What to do? What to do? It was during this time that the idea of life coaching came up again. It had flirted with me in the past and here it was again. I decided to search online to see what opportunities were there. First, I asked around for the name of local life coaches. I asked them about how they got trained and transitioned into their coaching careers. This led me to an online opportunity to become a certified life coach. I knew it was more in line with what felt right. Rather than deal with a population that didn’t want my help, I would have clients who sought my help. Rather than dealing with mental health, alcohol and drug abuse issues, I would help clients achieve their life goals.
Weeeeell, things didn’t go as I thought. Even though I graduated from the online program, put up a website and wrote articles to drive traffic to my website, I got no bites. I was faithful to this for three months but when money started to run out, I chose the path most taken. I went online and applied for bookkeeping jobs. Yep, I was in survival mode again. I had a son to take care of and needed a “real job,” so I succumbed. As I reflect, I find it interesting and almost poetic that I find myself in the same place almost six years later. This time it isn’t physical safety that’s at stake.
Shall I continue to pick jobs based on survival or shall I risk it all for a belief that there is something more? That’s what’s at risk for me. Shall I allow my authentic soul to lead this time instead of fears parading as good sense, wisdom or being responsible when underneath it all I don’t trust myself? When I’ve told people that I’m leaving my job, they’ve asked me what I’m going to do. Truth is, I don’t know. I'm leavin that up to God. All I do know is this: if I don’t take a flying leap—now--I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
