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driven nation turns inward By Tammy Joyner – Staff In less than two hours that Tuesday morning last September --- the time it took for two symbols of U.S. commerce to collapse --- the American workplace changed forever. And not just in the physical realm. Sept. 11 struck a universal chord: People are rethinking their lives and work, weighing what's important and what no longer matters. Obsessing over status-symbol careers seems almost shallow now. "They're looking for rewards beyond just salary," says workplace expert John Challenger. "It's the 'life is too short' kind of attitude." In the seven months since Sept. 11, Americans saw unemployment rise, as more than a million jobs vanished. They've watched Enron and Arthur Andersen --- two large and admired firms --- reduced to ethical question marks. Loyalty is now a liability. "Nine-eleven has opened people to explore who they are from a whole new depth," says Roger Herman, a Greensboro, N.C., futurist who tracks societal trends. "We've shifted into a different kind of society. People are saying it's time to examine who we are, what we do, where we are." That soul-searching is translating into a quiet, yet profound, movement. People are switching careers, signing on with nonprofits in unprecedented numbers, starting their own businesses, reconnecting with family or their life's calling or simply bailing out of corporate careers and waiting until something better comes along. "The most remarkable characteristic of the post 9/11 worker is a willingness to take risks," Challenger says. The speed with which these risk-takers are moving has caught some trend watchers off guard and put pressure on job market specialists to keep pace. "It's forcing us to rewrite our material to accommodate self-employment vs. traditional employment," says Brian Ray, president and chief executive of Crossroads Career Network. Marshall Duke wonders if this post-Sept. 11 rush to self-discovery is really about escapism. "There's two kinds of escape: the escape from and the escape to," says Duke, Candler professor of clinical psychology at Emory University. Duke's assessment isn't lost on Barbi Burris. Shortly after Sept. 11, she, her husband and their two sons moved from Alpharetta to Big Canoe, a picturesque 8,000-acre North Georgia community at the foothills of the Appalachians. "Obviously [Sept. 11] isn't something you can run away from, but this is a place where we can think about what's important," the Delta flight attendant says of her new home. "It's very peaceful. It's a whole lot easier to get up and look out the window and look into the woods rather than get up and get right into the traffic. It forces you to slow your life down. "To me, it was a good move." STUDENT: A career path veers in a different direction Kelly West was on her way to becoming a financial analyst or investment banker. She had always been good with money. She loved it, in fact. "Money just makes sense to me," says West, a 22-year-old economics major who graduates from Georgia Tech on Saturday. "It just seemed to be the thing to do. Then Sept. 11 happened." Suddenly, making megabucks wasn't that important anymore. "It really doesn't matter how much money you make," she says recently. "You could make $70,000 a year, but if you're working 70 hours a week, you don't get time to enjoy all the money you're making." Sept. 11 was just one of a string of events that set West's career path in a different direction. She's now looking seriously at a stint in the Peace Corps or some other nonprofit volunteer agency. Increasingly, college students are making similar decisions. Twentysomethings like West grew up in a period of economic euphoria. Most were in junior high when the last recession ended in 1991. In the past two years, however, they've been forced to deal with an unstable economy. They watched the tech tsunami crash. Many college students have had job offers rescinded. They've seen their parents get laid off. Corporate ethics have been called into question with the Enron-Andersen saga. Sept. 11 proved to be the tipping point. "These kids have been on a roller coaster as far as thinking about their careers," says Kembrel Jones, head of the MBA program at Emory University. He says he's seen many of his students make big changes in their career plans. Emory's MBA students were in their second day of fall semester on Sept. 11, Jones noted. The drastically altered corporate landscape forced many of them to confront the idea of letting go of plans for status symbol jobs for careers of meaningful service. "This [MBA] class is still a little off balance," Jones says. "It's hard to readjust the dream. They're asking themselves: 'What's important?' 'What should I do with my career?' I've got students looking at working in nonprofits. That was almost unheard of in the past." That was the case for West, who interviewed with Peace Corps officials last week. A career with a nonprofit was a foreign concept. Now she hopes to work in a foreign country --- preferably a Spanish-speaking one --- doing consulting work to help struggling companies streamline and save money. "I'd get to use what I've learned." Her parents back her. "Both of them have done corporate America all their lives and pretty much have been unhappy," she says. Her mother recently lost her job for the second time in 18 months. Says West: "If you're not going to have stability or loyalty, then at least you should enjoy what you do." FAMILY: After Sept. 11, pressures of daily life 'no big deal' The final straw came at 2 a.m. about a year ago. "I had to get up to go stand in line to get [my oldest son] in a preschool for two days a week," Dan Burris recalled. Something had to change. He and wife Barbi had had enough of Atlanta's crazy traffic jams and stand-in-line-to-get-ahead existence. "We knew at that point we couldn't wait to get up here and get out," says Burris, 36, an Office Depot salesman who works from home more frequently now. "It was busier and crazier down there." Sept. 11 had a deeper, more personal impact on his wife, Barbi, a 16-year Delta Air Lines flight attendant. She was on her way home from Dublin when her flight was diverted to Gander, Newfoundland. What was supposed to be a routine three-day job turned into eight tense days for the family. But the separation ultimately turned out to be a blessing for the Burris family. The plane touched down in Gander, and Barbi Burris' anxieties took off. She was a great distance from her husband and children. Worries flooded her mind: "I've got to get home. There's soccer games, music classes, haircut appointments." But those thoughts eventually yielded to a different perspective. "There was enough alone time to see what was really important," she recalled. She spent a lot of time reading her Bible. "It reminded me of how big God is and how little we are." Suddenly the daily pressures of her life "were no big deal." In Gander, she found generosity and a big-hearted sense of community --- something she and her husband had been trying to find. "The manager of the hotel gave us his car to use," Burris recalled. "People cooked for us and took us places." Burris' time in Gander reaffirmed the decision to move to Big Canoe in North Georgia. It has made sense for a lot of young families. In
the months since Sept. 11, Big Canoe real estate agents have seen
an influx of young people. Many of Big Canoe's new residents are looking for places "where security is high and the natural environment is there for their families," Young says. Futurist Roger Herman says this emphasis on scaled-down, simplified and small-town living shows that "having established salaries are suddenly a lot less important. We're getting out of Dodge." For the Burrises, Big Canoe is their answer to Dodge. "It's a place where we can think about what's important. It's very peaceful. There's nature all around us. It gives us that quiet time to be thankful to God," Barbi Burris says. Her parents followed to Big Canoe in January. The Burrises got another taste of the Gander-style sense of community shortly after they moved to Big Canoe. A neighbor the family barely knew lent Dan Burris his car and child seat to pick up Barbi and the children during a recent family emergency. "It's strange," Dan Burris says. "We'd lived in the Atlanta area for eight or nine years. We've only been here five or six months, and we probably have more friendships developed here." EXECUTIVE: Time with loved ones now the top priority Lurma Rackley celebrated her birthday playing Scrabble with her family last Sunday. "My sister, brother-in-law, mother and I are Scrabble fanatics," says Rackley, who turned 53 Wednesday. It's the first time she's been with so many family members in more than 30 years. Family time became a priority for the Clark Atlanta University graduate after Sept. 11. At the time, she lived in Seattle and was developing a corporate social responsibility program for the Eddie Bauer firm. "I was thinking about the transportation system," she recalled of the ensuing chaos of Sept. 11. "If transportation got disrupted, I wouldn't have been able to get to [my mother]." The terrorist attacks left Rackley wanting to reach out to help others. "But I didn't know quite what to do." A phone call changed that. The search firm that had helped her find an earlier job with Amnesty International was looking for help in filling the public relations director's job at Atlanta-based CARE. Did she know of anyone? "It was just a natural fit," she says. "I recommended myself. The organization just seemed so worthwhile. It seemed like an opportunity I didn't want to pass up, even if it meant relocating." She and her 24-year-old son, Rumal, moved to Atlanta. She joined CARE on March 1, bringing her career in the nonprofit field full circle. The events of the past seven months --- war in Afghanistan and unrest in the Middle East --- have made her more determined to make Americans aware of global poverty and to help eradicate it through individual acts of service. "A lot of the unrest and response to oppression really is tied to global poverty," she says. "Poverty doesn't cause violence. But in situations where people are despairing and feel oppressed, that could be a haven for terrorists. We need to figure out we can share the world's resources so that everyone has an opportunity to live dignified lives. "I really think a lot of people are beginning that search through their churches or nonprofit organizations and community discussions," Rackley said. Reconnecting with her family is just as significant. She's able to spend more time with her mother, Gloria Blackwell, stepfather, Charles DeJournette, and extended family. "Everybody in the family was interested in being closer to each other." TECH CONSULTANT: Period of self-discovery turned into new calling On Sept. 11, Joe Elliott stood with a half-dozen co-workers watching an office television as the twin towers crumbled. The future of World2one, the young Norcross-based tech company he worked for, was now uncertain. So were Elliott's exit plans. The tech consultant was two weeks shy of leaving the company. "I had intended to ... take some time to figure out what I wanted to do next," he says. "Sept. 11 really increased the pressure ... to scrub my plans. But I couldn't afford not to do it." By October, Elliott's stock in the company was worthless. The father of four was the sole breadwinner and had been raising money for technology companies and doing technology consulting for a year without a steady paycheck. The pressure to find a job was strong. The pressure to find his calling was stronger. Elliott spent October locked in his "prayer closet" --- his home office --- hoping to get a clear reading on his next step. "Basically the question I was asking is, 'What is my calling? How am I made, and where do I fit? " he says. "Not 'where can I go to make the most money?' " As he was trying to connect with his calling, he wound up connecting with a small group of CEOs on a similar odyssey. They became his sounding board in a eight-week personal and professional journey of self-discovery. "Everybody was shaken by Sept. 11," Elliot, 39, says of the group. "It awakened us to what we really hope for. Although the group has since disbanded, he keeps in touch with those peers through e-mails and informal meetings. A Thanksgiving trip to his parents' home for the holiday
helped crystallize his plans: Restore suburban America, starting
with some of the towns around Atlanta. It was something he had always
been interested in. Redevelopment of suburbia is a way for people to regroup on a much deeper level, he says. "More people are going to want to cluster. There's safety in numbers," he says. "People want a sense of community. They're looking to reconnect. We've grown up in an age where ... there's a lot of artificial connection." Earlier this month, Elliott got the first tangible sign he is on the right path. Smyrna city officials agreed to buy about half of the land in a 1.3-acre project he's working on. The site includes a 100-year-old house he hopes will be restored. The city plans to turn its portion of the project into a park.. Elliott hopes the project will become a gateway for more development in Smyrna's eastside neighborhoods. "After 17 years of a quest, I think I'm on it.
I have no guarantees how it's going to turn out," he says.
"But I can see it, breathe it, smell it. It just fires me up." The recession. The Enron-Andersen debacle. Sept. 11. All of these events in the past year have contributed to a shift in priorities and values in our lives and at work. Among the changes: > The number of out-of-work managers and executives who've started businesses has jumped 40 percent nationally since Sept. 11. > The number of job seekers going to work for small firms rose 22 percent, indicating a desire for a more flexible and familial type of work environment. > Industry-switching has grown 45 percent, another sign that people are redirecting their priorities and career goals. > Those who've found jobs they like seem more willing to accept lower pay. "There is a greater willingness to accept lower pay if it means greater flexiblity to balance work and family," said John Challenger of Challenger Gray & Christmas. "It reminded a lot of people about the importance of friends and family over career." > A recent American Demographics magazine survey found that 77 percent of those polled cited family time as more meaningful now than before Sept. 11. Only 19 percent said making a lot of money is more important. > The Peace Corps has seen a 26 percent increase in applications in the Atlanta regional office, which includes Alabama, Georgia, Florida, South Carolina, Tennessee, Mississippi and Puerto Rico. Many of the inquiries are coming from recent college graduates, people who have been laid off and midcareer professionals looking to change jobs or just wanting to leave corporate work. > Big Canoe has seen an influx since Sept. 11 of new residents and people inquiring about moving to the North Georgia community. "We're seeing younger groups of people. We're seeing more 35- to 40-year-olds than we've seen in the past," said Ann Young, director of marketing at Big Canoe Co. Many are young couples with small children. > The Primrose School Franchising Co., an Atlanta-based company that sells franchises in preschool programs, says it has seen a 10 percent to 15 percent increase in the past year in the number of high-level professionals expressing interesting in leaving corporate careers to open one of its franchises. Many are working mothers interested in balancing career and family life, spokeswoman Stephanie Azzarone says. Sources: Challenger Gray & Christmas, American Demographics magazine, Atlanta regional office of the Peace Corps, Big Canoe Co., Primrose School Franchising Co.
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