Articles

How I lost my Bay Street job and found true happiness
by Andrea Fitzpatrick, Toronto, ON

How did I get here? I remember thinking: How did I get to be sitting next to this human
resources person while the Bell Canada vice-president on the other side of the desk politely
informed me that my employment was being terminated?
I wanted to say: "Wait, I think you've made a mistake." Instead I just kept smiling and nodding
my head. Smiling so they wouldn't see me breaking inside. I shook the VP's hand as she left with
the HR employee, and a career counsellor took the chair across from me. I made my smile
even bigger. I now wanted out of that room as quickly as possible. That whole meeting last
Aug. 12 took 12 minutes. Twelve minutes to end a seven-year climb. I didn't think, at the time,
about the possibility of what 12 minutes could begin. It took my border collie, Sophie, to lead
me back to myself and what I really wanted in life, which turns out not to be corporate success
after all.

Seven years earlier, at the age of 28, I had clutched my still-wet MBA from York University's
Schulich School of Business in one hand and firmly grasped the bottom rung of the corporate
ladder in the other. I stared up that ladder and envisioned at the top a VP title, a six-figure
income, a big office and an even bigger bonus. I never paused to consider my definition of
success versus society's definition, or that maybe I should have expected something else,
something more for myself. Each job I took over the years was about achieving a better title, a
better salary, a better bonus. Most of all, I wanted people I met to be impressed with my role
in the corporate world.
On my third company switch, I landed at Bell Canada as the associate director of product
communications and had the best compensation plan yet. At Bell, I thought, I could really put
some rungs behind me on that corporate ladder, as it was a huge company with lots of internal
mobility. My new role was totally different from anything I had ever done or expressed any
interest in doing. But it was a foot in the door, another rung higher - and that's what was
important.
After six months, the rosy glow of Ma Bell was already beginning to wear off. I convinced
myself that all I needed was to get into a better position in the company and then I would be
back to loving my work life. However, I was unable to change roles immediately for a number
of reasons, so I decided I would just grit my teeth and put in my time.

And just as I began to grit, Sophie came into my life. She was then 8 weeks old. I had never
owned a dog before, but had been dreaming about having one since I was 10 years old. Our
bond grew as we embarked on training and a life together. I discovered a real sense of joy with
her that I had never felt before. Something began to shift ever so slightly in me. Sophie was
becoming more of a focus, rivalling my work in importance. My life was full with a wonderful
family, great friends I had known since my school days in Newmarket, and a man who meant
the world to me, Ian. But my relationship with Sophie was beginning to have a profound effect
on the way I viewed the world.
Sophie has an infectious spirit and energy for life, but she's a gentle soul. She is incredibly
smart and knows about 50 words and numerous tricks. She has spent time doing agility
training and some sheep herding, and is an official fundraiser/participant in the Terry Fox
Run. Her love of people knows no bounds, and she wins the heart of everyone she meets.

A friend who worked for a local free paper heard me talking about Sophie one day. They were
putting together a pet section at his paper, and he thought I should try writing about her. The
little story went over well with readers, and so "Tales of Two Pets" was born, a monthly column
about life with Sophie and my cat, Elora. I continued to write that column, on a volunteer
basis, for the next 18 months. On a whim, I submitted one of my favourite pieces to Animal
Wellness magazine, and it was accepted. It was fun to write about Sophie, but I was just
dabbling in the craft. There was no money in it - it was just a hobby, a nice little distraction
from my day job, a day job that I had become more and more discontent with.

Then came the announcement that 2,500 management jobs would be cut at Bell. I knew mine
would be among them when I received a message on my BlackBerry the evening of Monday,
Aug. 11, while I was riding the train home to Mississauga, requesting that I attend a meeting at
9 a.m. the next day. In the weeks that followed, I could not make myself say, "I was let go." In
conversations, I would use expressions like, "I was caught in the crossfire." Or I hid behind the
magnitude of 2,500 jobs - "2,500 of us were released due to restructuring." But I knew the
truth, and the truth was that 85 per cent of the people with Bell Canada when I was there still
had jobs. And I was not one of them. I kept my true feelings about my unemployment guarded.
My stock answer when people asked how I was doing was: "Great! That job was never right for
me anyway." While it was true that I had not been happy in my role, I had always been in
control of my career decisions. I struggled with being told that my services were no longer
required. I didn't know who I was if I wasn't the Career Path Girl. Continued next page...