Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

It's not egocentric to give yourself a little bit of credit for effort and endurance - ask any man. Women might dominate in PR but men are the best self-promoters on earth. Take note. I'm starting to because ego like any living thing needs nurturing in order to develop. There is a stark difference between this ego and the nature of arrogance.

I've been in the PR /Communications game for well, 10 years now. Better still, I should say I've been evolving with and in this sector for a decade. Good or bad, I've made career decisions that have all yielded in one way or another and by which I stand. I wouldn't be looking for work had I stayed in London - this is true but by the same rationale I wouldn't have been given half an hour with CEOS here and there of large Canadian corporates on the basis of said 10 years had I stayed.

As purged in "The English PR', the job market in Canada is a very different beast to the creature we like to stroke back home. CEOS here seem to be more open to 'meeting and greeting' or equally 'showing the door to' future talent than they are back home for reasons given in this earlier blog. CEOS in London do the same through delegation. Both systems work at their own pace. Both are equally nerve-wracking and suspense filled and both serve the same purpose. Different strokes for different folks and all that jazz.

So in having secured these networking meetings, I'm realising that I do indeed have sector worthy skills and knowledge for these industry formers and leaders - otherwise why would they even bother? right?. This makes me feel very positive and confident about my prospects here.

Juxtapose this with the advice of a certain group of society, the sort who fuel extremism and fill the letters pages of the tabloids with short-sighted scaremongering, that tell me I might have to settle for second best just because I'm not Canadian. Where is the vision? I ask you? 10 years experience takes TEN YEARS. And the business players I meet agree with this. That it's not a job seekers' market right now is a completely separate issue.

So to those looking for work in new arenas, trust your instincts about yourself. If you know your stuff don't let a small minded ignoramus make you feel less than what you know yourself to be. Chances are they are massive under performers that expect something for nothing. Equally, admit your short-comings and do something about them. The future is in your hands.

Strip Malls and Other Final Resting Places

Rural North American strip malls, so called because they strip you of the very life force energy received at conception, are peopled by the souls of the undead. These grey and frayed blankets of homogeny smother any spark of individuality.

Unlike say Starbucks that pop up like a pimple the night before a big party an ex boyfriend is rumoured to be attending, they merely irritate but you can by-pass them to the little greasy spoon caf next door and be done.

Strip malls have a magnetic force that engages at a distance of 100 ft sucking you in with it's cheap prices and glaring neon signs. Like the gang of mean girls at school that you had to embrace in order to accept and be accepted the strip mall forces you to exchange ideas for doctrine.

I don't want to have the same flippin pictures on my wall as the rest of the street. I want to belong sure, not SURRENDER. I don't want to see my reading chair or coffee table in someone else's front room who's serving me coffee in a top I also have!!

No, give me boutique any day. I don't care that I can only buy one of something instead of ten there at least I'll be the only one with that something. I live in Edward Scissorhand's cul de sac and that is bad enough, don't take my creativity too.

So my dear friends, we're moving to the big smoke. The for sale sign is going up and we're on our way to Toronto proper before I lose my shine.

The English PR

I moved from London, UK to Toronto, Canada last year. We speak the same language and the Queen projects her silver and chrome smile from our countries' respective royal mints. How reassuring. Like these there are other seemingly obvious similarities that on the surface provide a cushion of familiarity until that is, you sit on it and realise that it's nothing more than a 'Whoopee' cushion.

Behind the velvet rope lurks a complex cultural machine that if left unattended will mangle your extremities unless you jump on and steer the beast with the energy of a rookie and the wisdom of a CEO; the cultural shock amplified as the rug of 'familiarity' is pulled out from under you.

I expect this in Bangkok but Toronto? surely not.

I'll explain. I'm your archetypal PR girl who's worked her way up the ranks. I married a Canuck and thought let's move to that lovely country Canada (which it is) . What could go wrong? I have all this experience and knowledge, (bar the unfortunate downturn in the economy) what self respecting multi-national company would not want what I've got to offer?

Most, is the answer. Why? Well unlike the UK where either because the market has traditionally been bigger or more boyant or whether the Brits are happy-go-lucky risk takers - finding a job in PR say, is a walk in the park so long as you have the credentials. Here on the other hand as I'm discovering, if you don't know someone who knows someone you can take your credentials and save them for when the toilet paper runs out.

So I've had to put my British meritogratic tendencies to one side and instead network like my life depends on it. I feel a bit like Elvis Presley's daughter trying to make it on her own..only I can sing so to speak.

The good news is - I'm actually enjoying this networking malarkey and have met some very wise and helpful Canadian business leaders. In fact by the time I do finally get a job in communications or PR, I'll probably have had a coffee or at least a glass of water with everyone on Bloor and Yonge, Bay and Front and other significant outposts.

So to all the Brits out there who want to come here you will have to put your British reserve aside and be bold. Likewise to the Canadians who'd like to try London on for size; Forget your mother's uncle's cousin - you'll want to get on that portfolio like a fat kid on a smartie.