Happy 4th! Vive España!

Fireworks, please!!

I arrived home from a spectacular weekend in Barcelona today, only to find.....

a package slip for a certified letter from the Subdelegación.

My residency!

Dropped my bags in the hallway and raced down to Correos, thinking, hmmm..ok, if they've said no, all I have to do is find a job and retain my current residency, as an employee...I hope.

Can I really have all of it just by going for it? All of it? Living in Spain and owning my own time?

Waited in line, toes tapping, fingers twiddling, heart racing. Tore open the envelope as the man behind the counter handed it to me....

And I'm official. I am, on this 4th of July, legally autonomous. Newly independent. In three little weeks and one brief morning of chasing down paperwork, Spain (very graciously, I might add) changed my residency to self employment.

To Spain, self determination and the 4th of July!

Somebody back there eat an ear of corn for me, will you?

A headhunter, a blip and a whim

I opened Outlook this morning to find an e-mail from a headhunter in Florida. A headhunter who I genuinely respect, actually, which isn't a common occurrence for me and heavy hitter headhunters.

The poor woman had called every phone number she ever had for me, all to no avail, obviously, since I've moved to Spain since last we spoke, in 2003. In desperation she dug up a US-based e-mail address I still maintain, and sent out one last desperate plea: With the title "How are you?", she asked where she could call me "to catch up."

And I faced that blip I sometimes face, when I help a former colleague update his resume, or serve as a reference for someone who once worked for me...or make a business phone call in English and hear my slick "corporate voice" slide out.

It's a somebody pinch me blip. A wait am I really here now?...and dear lord, did I use to be there? blip. You know, there. In "the mode". Running 100 miles an hour, talking on my cell phone until the stewardess orders me to stop, then picking it up again the moment we land. Planning social engagements a month in advance with a quick "Hmm, How's the 25th for you? Around 3? I have a 5, but we'll be fine."

I'm even laughing aloud as I write this. I use to appear in annual reports, all dressed up in my newest Anne Klein suit and power scarf. I mean read this blog and tell me you even believe that. I'm not sure I believe it, til someone from that world calls me and pulls me back.

What makes me smile most every time I enter that Twilight Zone is the sheer incredulity I hear on the other end of the line. The headhunter's e-mail reponse today, for example: What brought you to Spain?

I have this image of her sitting at her desk, shaking her head, thinking, "Darn, I knew there was a commission in that chick. How good of an offer did she get that took her to Spain??"

As though anything else would be treason to the tribe.

How could I tell her what brought me was a whim, then a head-over-heels romance with a language, and finally a dream? Shall I tell her all of that, this woman who wants to tempt me with a Senior Sales Executive you'll-only-go-after-the- largest-of-the-largest-accounts "hunter" job? I don't mean to fault the corporate world; I have friends who thrive there, who do ethical business and manage to thrive as human beings, too.

It's just no place for me. (I'm laughing out loud again.) And it took me a lot of seemingly successful years to figure that out.

Shall I tell her I now have time to walk by the lavender growing along the old city wall on Calle San Pablo, sniff deeply and snap a photo for my blog?

Anyway, my perplexed headhunter, who by now is undoubtedly convinced I am CEO of something or other in Spain (well, I moved, didn't I?), quickly wished me well in my new life.

And asked if I knew anybody for the super sales gig.

The road not taken

I left my VP job 4 years ago in February.

When I was struggling with that decision I kept reminding myself:

But I worked so hard to get here!

Funny thing is I knew I'd worked hard, and, yeh, I'd gotten there, but I also knew the truth: I'd never worked hard to get there.

Hired to sell in a tiny St. Louis office (after another spontaneous career change - I'm what I like to call a chapter book:)), I found myself behind a mahogany desk in Southern California 4 years later, with 40 people and 65 million dollars in business looking up at me. Without ever having wanted to get there. I just worked hard.

I can still hear my proud response to every wide-eyed newbee who took me aside and or scheduled an appointment just to ask me how she could get "where I was":

"Oh, I never tried to get here. I just grew my business and here I am."

Four years later that famous line prompts a belly laugh. That I never wanted to get there might explain why I felt like a mismatched shoe once I arrived.

The other day I opened an email from one of my former colleagues, let's call her Lori, the only friend who was still with the company at a senior management level, and I found myself flooded by memories. Lori worked for me, very briefly, then she and I led the same division. Lori handled the Eastern US while I tackled the West and Canada. Her unexpected reaction to my unexpected resignation - "How could you leave me?" - sent me running to the CEO with an offer to rescind my letter, an offer he very wisely declined.

Lori finally left the company a few months ago, after earning a Sr VP title and a company-paid MBA only to become uncomfortable as a new leadership team took the reins. Her e-mail confirmed what I had already heard: She's moved her family from Southern California to Pennsylvania to take on a new Senior VP Sales and Marketing post.

And for a moment - a brief moment - I put my old life in fast forward - as if I'd never handed in that fateful letter - and saw myself in 2005, a lot wealthier :), still in corporate mode, walking into a new company to lead eager young troops to new sales records. Executive MBA in hand.

And I cringed.

Because as much as Lori is one of the corporate good guys, a talented leader who truly does thrive in the big business world, I am not.

I miss my salary and the easy peace of mind it gave me, I miss being an icon - Erin, no last name required, I miss the adulation of eager little sales bucks, I miss speaking in public (in English!) about a company I believe in, I miss the absolute clarity of purpose a company-woman job gave me, and the seductive "Success" label my business card provided. In some ways it was an easy life.

It just wasn't mine! As I closed her e-mail it hit me: I can't for one moment imagine going back.

My job here in Spain is creative and fun, and it's been my way to get here and get started. I'm still wandering around, wondering what I might like to do, professionally, in my next chapter, now that the where has worked out so well, but my quick fast-forward nightmare made one thing clear: Arriving sure is a lot sweeter when you are the one behind the wheel.

Here's to getting to the places you really are working toward.

Getting Started

Today marks the beginning of my blog!

Just about a year ago, I left a high rise tucked behind the Wrigley Building in downtown Chicago and moved myself and a couple of suitcases to Spain. I wanted adventure, I wanted to live in another culture and another language, and, well, something just told me this was next.

So here I am. I’m 42, American, I work in marketing and I live in Salamanca, a very beautiful, very old university town I’ll tell you more about later.

There’s a little bit of paying it forward in this blog, too. More than four years ago, when I announced I was quitting a nice fat VP job to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up, someone did me a favor. A very wise woman who I really didn’t know very well advised me to stop being me - driven overachieving 90 mile-an-hour me- for just a while, before choosing a new path. I took her advice and booked a 2 month Spanish course in Spain. (I couldn’t very well take a 2 month vacation without a measurable result, now could I??)

Those 2 months started me on a journey I’d never expected to make. I fell head over heels in love with the Spanish language. I fell in love with life at a slower pace. I fell in love with the adventure of discovering something new every day. Last May, I took the leap and moved to Salamanca, Spain, where I now live and work.

By blogging I plan to catch my travels and adventures in words for myself and for faraway friends, but hey, maybe I’ll pay it forward. Maybe I’ll make just one person question if it’s worth taking a crazy dream off the back burner, just to see what happens.