My Work Relationship Status: “It’s Complicated”
I got the break I was craving, in a genie lamp curse kind of way
I was a workaholic. This was clear in when I received my company’s HR-administered 360 evaluation in 2013. My leader, peers, and direct reports scored me from 1-5 on a variety of pre-determined items.
My highest and lowest ratings:
“Works hard; readily puts in extra time and effort” 4.88/5
“Maintains an effective balance between work and personal life” 2.43/5
Work/life balance was a cute concept when my airline was in the midst of a multi-year airline merger, contract negotiations, and our worst operational period in recent history.
At age 34, I was Director of Inflight Crew Operations. I oversaw staffing, schedule planning, schedule operations, and payroll for around 10,000 flight attendants. I led several teams (around 100 people), including a 24/7/365 operations department. I was always on call, and there was always a crisis.
I was miserable.
How had I even gotten here?
It wasn’t ambition.
I took an airline crew scheduling job in 2000, right out of college. I was buying time to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. The job gave me a flexible schedule, travel benefits, interesting problems to solve, and enough money to support myself.
Five years later, in 2005, I reluctantly applied for an assistant manager position at my recently promoted manager’s request. He was the first manager I’d respected, and a good friend. I never saw myself as a leader or a manager, but I loved working with him. His mix of care for people and technical competence inspired me to be a leader. A week after my promotion, before I even started in the role, he died in a tragic car accident.
Within my first month in the role, a flight went off the runway causing the death of a child and terrible operational chaos. Shortly after, the other assistant manager decided she didn’t want the responsibility anymore and went back to an individual contributor role. I was alone, managing crew scheduling as a 26-year-old with about one year of leadership experience.
I was on a work treadmill steadily increasing in speed and incline.
The following years brought the Great Recession, contract negotiations, requests from my boss to manage additional teams, system replacements, ice storms, hurricanes, new aircraft types… 60-80 hour work weeks were normal for me, spiking above 80 during periods of operational crisis. I took pride in demonstrating I could handle responsibility and figure out ways to do more with less.
A particularly low moment was leaving my 87-year-old grandmother’s Sunday afternoon birthday lunch to attend to a staffing crisis.
My workaholism was also affecting the managers who reported to me, evident in these comments they wrote in the aforementioned 360 evaluation:
"...I would like to see improvements with work life balance. You shouldn’t need your vacation as much as you want your vacation. Sometimes I feel like Claire really needs her vacation when it comes around.”
"...I would love to see Claire develop a better work-life balance. Not only would it be healthier for her, but her team would understand that it is not an expectation as well. Though she verbally states that it is ok for others to have that balance, it can make others feel guilty if she is not doing the same.”
I yearned for a way out. I’d unsuccessfully interviewed for positions at a few other companies. I felt hopeless and stuck.
The first week of 2014, I worked ~100 hours when a polar vortex snarled my airline’s operations. The next week, I noticed a lump in my pelvis. I joked to my boss, “Maybe I’ll need surgery and actually take some time off.”
An ultrasound revealed enlarged lymph nodes. My doctor said it was probably nothing, but ordered an excision biopsy surgery to verify.
Anesthesia was the best sleep I’d had in months. I took a couple of days, not long enough, to recover.
The following week, I was back at it. I spent several days on painkillers at the contract negotiating table. That Wednesday, after a morning of negotiations, I stopped quickly at the doctor’s office before my evening flight to a company event in Phoenix.
“I’m sorry, I really didn’t think this was going to be anything. You have Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. You’ll need chemotherapy, but the good news is it’s highly curable.”
I texted my VP saying I wouldn’t be on the evening flight.
I was going to get the break I wished for
Cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was a great excuse to take time off. Through my illness, I reclaimed control of my life and prioritized my health and my joy. I also used cancer as an excuse to make the career change I craved. I advocated to create a new role allowing me to build my department’s first dedicated analytics team.
Cancer helped me become a better leader. Instead of trying to be a workaholic superwoman, I finally learned to delegate and give others opportunities to lead and grow. I finally understood the importance of empathy, the importance of being there for someone during their most difficult time.
Cancer was the first catalyst to change my relationship with work
As with any addiction, though, it’s a continual struggle. My needs for income, purpose, intellectual stimulation, and external validation keep pulling me along the path. Sometimes I manage boundaries, sometimes I need a temporary breakup.
If you’re interested in more of my story, I will be exploring these topics in future weeks:
Adventures working 20 years in airline operations
Navigating a cancer diagnosis and treatment at a young(ish) age
Quitting my job during the pandemic to take a sabbatical
Dipping my toes into self-employment
I share my story to inspire others to reflect and make changes before life forces them.
Next week: the second catalyst, and how jumping out of an airplane gave me the guts to jump out of my 20-year airline career…
Three random things I learned this week:
The Chrome browser has a cure (enablement?) for excessive tabs + bookmarks
A US Congress committee figured out the secrets to “shocking function”
Wow, Claire! This is inspiring, and oh by the way you are a talented writer. I see a book in your future!
It’s amazing how we sleep walk into default path. You realizations through difficult times is a precious experience to share with others!