In 1970, when I was pregnant with Seth, two friends and I started a non-profit organization to promote professional part-time jobs and job-sharing.
My dining room was “corporate” headquarters, and our only asset was a printer-sized answering machine. Its message said, “You’ve reached 969-2339. Please leave a message for the Boston Project for Careers or the Kugels after the beep.” A little unprofessional, but there weren’t a lot of angel investors who wanted to give us a zillion dollars back then.
In spite of appearances on local TV, newspaper articles about us and some (but not enough) happy clients, the Boston Project for Careers eventually died and the three of us went on to other things.
The other day, while we were waiting for a delayed flight in the Sarasota Airport, a woman came up to me and said she thought she knew me. We determined that we had been at the same restaurant ten days earlier and had been introduced by mutual friends.
She told me that later that evening, she realized that she had known me long ago because she had been a client of the Boston Project for Careers and I had referred her to a job that led to her long and rewarding career.
She thanked me.