Monday, March 06, 2006
Do I really want to be able to bake a fabulous cake?
I am a cooker. If that is a word, then I am one. I would never go as far as to call myself a chef. And I most certainly am not a baker. Knowing that baking a cake is a skill, an admirable talent cultivated through meticulous following of measurement and timing. Wouldn’t it be amazing to add that to my list, the list of things friends, family and colleagues beg me to prepare? Who wouldn’t want to be a master of dessert, the course inspiring to those with an itchy sweet-tooth in need of someone to scratch it with a cupcake from scratch.
I was sure that, provided I worked hard, read the recipe carefully and planned my cupcakes to perfection, that I could do it. I could cook something amazing and fluffy and sweet enough to send my hypoglycemia reeling. What I didn’t take into account was that although it seems the logical next step for the girl who loves the kitchen to bake a mean cupcake, I might not actually want to be that girl.
Sometimes, when you think about the next logical step in life, career, relationship, you think that what makes sense must be what you want. The next logical step for me is to add another this or that to my resume. Could it be another recipe that is baked to perfection? Something that will get me an “in” to a party in need of sweets.
This might be an activity, not a new job. Perhaps this activity will be one that builds my networks and connections with people. If I succeed, they will follow my management like they wind through the line to decadent sweets at Firehook—blindly and with hunger in their eyes. At this point, ask yourself the same thing I asked myself: Is that really what I want?
I bought the ingredients, put together my resume, made a call here and there. I even dressed in business casual on a Saturday. I preheated my oven, took out the hand mixer and asked insightful questions of my interviewer. I brought up anecdotal evidence of my qualifications. Well, just because I made one excellent cake and bake a mean quiche crust (after how many failures?), does not mean that I can make these cupcakes to please these professionals and the prevailing DC sweet-tooth? In all honesty, as I read the recipe and filled my cupcake forms, I knew my heart wasn’t in it.
Stick with something you’re passionate about. Be true to yourself. I no more want to manage mid-career networking snobs in their quest to become high-level boss ladies than I want to add chocolate cupcakes to my mastered-menu-item resume. I will continue to experiment with pesto eggplant and the illusive holy grail that is The Perfect Hummus, but I probably won’t try to pour my heart into cupcake format. Or a bunt pan, for that matter...
I was sure that, provided I worked hard, read the recipe carefully and planned my cupcakes to perfection, that I could do it. I could cook something amazing and fluffy and sweet enough to send my hypoglycemia reeling. What I didn’t take into account was that although it seems the logical next step for the girl who loves the kitchen to bake a mean cupcake, I might not actually want to be that girl.
Sometimes, when you think about the next logical step in life, career, relationship, you think that what makes sense must be what you want. The next logical step for me is to add another this or that to my resume. Could it be another recipe that is baked to perfection? Something that will get me an “in” to a party in need of sweets.
This might be an activity, not a new job. Perhaps this activity will be one that builds my networks and connections with people. If I succeed, they will follow my management like they wind through the line to decadent sweets at Firehook—blindly and with hunger in their eyes. At this point, ask yourself the same thing I asked myself: Is that really what I want?
I bought the ingredients, put together my resume, made a call here and there. I even dressed in business casual on a Saturday. I preheated my oven, took out the hand mixer and asked insightful questions of my interviewer. I brought up anecdotal evidence of my qualifications. Well, just because I made one excellent cake and bake a mean quiche crust (after how many failures?), does not mean that I can make these cupcakes to please these professionals and the prevailing DC sweet-tooth? In all honesty, as I read the recipe and filled my cupcake forms, I knew my heart wasn’t in it.
Stick with something you’re passionate about. Be true to yourself. I no more want to manage mid-career networking snobs in their quest to become high-level boss ladies than I want to add chocolate cupcakes to my mastered-menu-item resume. I will continue to experiment with pesto eggplant and the illusive holy grail that is The Perfect Hummus, but I probably won’t try to pour my heart into cupcake format. Or a bunt pan, for that matter...
