On April 20, 1979, five and a half years before I was born, my father was pronounced dead. A tragic story I had heard most of my life. A story I hadn’t realized until recently I had only heard from one source. Needless to say, the one who died may not have the best recount of the events. No matter who told the story or what details may have varied, that fact remains: my father was found dead at the scene of a horrific car accident. An accident he caused, but horrific nonetheless. They rolled off the overpass and into the ditch. My mother was left unscathed and found sitting next to the car. My father was face down in the mud, not breathing. It wasn’t until a family friend came across the scene and, after learning it was my father in the ditch, checked for a pulse. He had to dig down deep, but he found a faint pulse. That intuition is what saved my father’s life.
On April 26, 2019, forty years later, I found myself lying in a hospital bed, just a day away from nearing the same fate. Mine wasn’t some tragic accident. While I didn’t cause it, I guess you could say I played a small role in it happening. At the hands of a doctor I trusted more than I should, a “treatment” plan went awry, and I ended up with an infection coursing through my body. One of the attending doctors informed me, “You’re lucky you came in when you did.” I asked her what that meant, and she said, “If you had waited a day, you wouldn’t be sitting here today.” I fought for myself, and it saved my life.
The common thread between these two events, beyond April appearing to be an unlucky month, is that both my father and I were meant to be here. The difference is that my situation was thrust upon me, while I had to fight. I’ve fought for myself and have been my own greatest advocate throughout my life—whether in my personal life or career. Yes, some may say I have a big personality, but it’s this personality that has helped me carve my path. As a woman in tech for 20 years, I’ve had to claw my way through sexism, ageism, change, and everything else the industry presents. I’ve made my voice heard in every room I’ve entered, and I’m proud to make waves—because that’s how change happens, something I’ve always embraced.
I received five rejection letters in one day last week—five templated rejections that all said the same message from the LinkedIn Easy Apply function. While some people have called me a machine—whether in my work ethic, workout regime, or house-flipping adventures—I am not a robot. I do want to know why I’m not chosen, whether for roles I may appear out of reach for or ones I’m significantly overqualified for. Either I can provide reasons I believe I’d still be a good fit, or I can learn the areas I need to improve. I am more than a piece of paper, and I can handle criticism.
We are in a time when the job market is the toughest I have ever seen it, and we are constantly being required to edit our resume to each job. This is unrealistic, but we do it anyway.
We are human, and we want to be treated as such. We’ve fought through worse, but sometimes we’d rather not have to fight so much.
Myers Rigs Consulting 
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