They warned me that I would get asked about my job by everyone I met.
"What do you do?"
"Where do you work?""Did you move for a job?"
I sigh a little bit every time, at the predictable inevitabilities. Then realize I'm just as curious about them, so I stifle the sigh. *breathe in*
"I work with a nonprofit called Food Recovery Network," I tell them (whoever they are.) And depending on how engaged they seem, I'll either stop there and smile or continue my explanation. Since you're here, I'm assuming you're curious, so I'll just keep going? You can always stop right now, in case you actually aren't interested. But boo on you. Why are you even here? Just kidding, thank you for being here at all. We all appreciate your existence.
FRN is a national organization composed of 150 chapters, each of which is located on a college/university campus. Those students are fighting food waste and hunger in their communities. They work out a plan with their campus dining providers to take leftover foods to local soup kitchens/churches (or things of that sort; there's quite a variety.)
As a member support fellow, it's my responsibility to check in monthly with 31 different chapter leaders to make sure everything is going according to plan. I exist to encourage their efforts, push them to reach new goals and act as a liaison between them and the national office.
My desk, in the national office, is situated between two other ladies named Hannah. In fact, it's not an individual desk but half of a two-person desk that is a section of a square where eight of us have computers. There's another grouping of four computers and two independent computers. So right now there are 14 of us in the office. A 15th person might be on the way. I'm not sure.
We work 40 hours a week. Isn't that crazy? I have an actual adult Monday through Friday 9-5 job. Except, only kind of. My supervisors decided, once upon a time, to instill a "Flex Friday" schedule. That means that I get to take every other Friday off, assuming I make up the four hours some other time in the two-week period. (I think that math is correct. I'm still not convinced I understand the system.) We have meetings and send emails and color coordinate our calendars and eat lunch together and groan simultaneously when the Internet stops working.
I'm thrilled to be at FRN. Really, truly thrilled. It seems like the most wonderful stepping stone between graduation and whatever the future holds. I suspect in nine months — when the fellowship ends — I'll be more equipped to make career decisions. Because I'm still not sure why I didn't pursue journalism.
I thought I wanted to be an editorial magazine photographer (or editorial assistant or anything in magazines.) I spent my last year of school assuming my future was headed in that direction. Pete Finch and Hannah Margaret Allen were my role models. Then, on somewhat of a whim, I attended the Food Waste and Hunger Summit in Athens, Georgia, and everything changed.
For years, my life goal has been to always be able to feed the people I care about. Note the symbolic photograph of a pot of soup as my "selfie" this week. When I learned of all the initiatives doing just that, my focus shifted from magazines to feeding strangers. And as much as I miss working at a daily newspaper and being the editor-in-chief of a magazine class, I'm 100% satisfied knowing that tomorrow I'll sit in an office as part of an organization that embodies my life goal.
xo, hc
ps: if you have any questions, shoot me an email: hannahcatherr@gmail.com
pps: if you want to listen to my favorite song of the week: Lady of the Desert by Rayland Baxter
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