Where in the Om Am I?

One Woman's Journey from the Corporate World to the Yoga Mat

By: Sara DiVello

Narrated by: Eileen Stevens

Now a cult classic, Where in the Om Am I? is an irreverent, honest, and hilarious memoir of a woman’s journey from the corporate world to the perilous world of yoga.

Sara has invested years dutifully climbing the corporate ladder to become head of public relations at a major financial-services company, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s not where she belongs. When her latest boss, a wine-guzzling, drama-loving diva, finally drives her to the brink, Sara seeks sanctuary in yoga-teacher training—only to encounter an entirely different assortment of craziness and calamity.

Where in the OM Am I? chronicles one woman’s journey from the fast-paced, cutthroat corporate world to the slow-paced, surprisingly catty, and sometimes perilous world of yoga. Along the way, Sara confronts the harsh reality of working in a male-dominated industry, the challenges of being a corporate interloper in the yoga community, and the complexity of interactions between women in both realms.

As epic mishaps beget personal revelations, Sara digs deep for the courage to forge a new life for herself.

©2013 Sara DiVello (P)2023 Blackstone Publishing

Disappointing, befuddled, gave up at Chapter 9

You hate your job. You love yoga. You suffer a generous salary at a job you hate but oh! yoga renews you.

What is a girl to do?

Someone, perhaps yourself, suggests and you foolishly do, write a memoir.

Early in the book is a long-winded story detailing a business trip with Ms DiVello's superior and the sole woman in top management. The superior is falling down drunk at 2:00 a.m. and appears for the client presentation the next morning wearing dark glasses and clearly unwell. I'll cut it short, to the place where the superior leaves the client presentation about to vomit. Ms DiVollo attempts to save the presentation and at its conclusion, discovers her vomited-soaked boss splayed under a toilet in a client bathroom. I was muttering under my breath, "You have a Blackberry. Take photos of this drunken mess of a woman sprawled under a toilet at client offices and send it to Corporate, with a note, 'What do you want me to do? She refuses to go the hospital." So much would have been accomplished if she had done so! Aaargh!

You see, I have fifty years experience working at a varity of major and minor firms in USA and UK, and I am familiar with those who have ground their heels determinedly onto the upper rungs of the ladder, who glance downward, who yell, "I made this mess and I want you to clean it up".

Call an ambulance. The woman is an alcoholic. You would be doing her a favor to face that fact rather than cowering on the bathroom floor enabling her denials.

An inexperienced 20-something, she does not do that. She scrapes her boss off the bathroom floor and suffers further humiliations, key amongst them, her boss spewing accusations Ms DiVello is plotting to oust her and take the job for herself.

I am an ex-Catholic. In my childhood at parochial school, I was taught to revere those bleeding, eye gouged, battered and roasted saints. Ms DiVello was showing all the signs of martydom. A martyr to money.

And after a long, hard day of pushing the need for money onto others, the need for money is pushing her around. This, Ms DiVllo, is not new. This ... we know.

Because there is the book cover! Sends a confusion message, does it not?

The cover portrays a woman, business suited, sporting sparky red heels and in her four hands, implements by which the corporate world was trying to kill her. The inference appears either to Lord Shiva (often portrayed dancing on a recumbent demon) or, Kali (popularly shown dancing on a recumbent Lord Shiva). Oh, and they are Hindu saints and yoga originated in india! So, yeah, there's that.

But here's the thing: the artwork presents a woman who is not frowning, displeased, saddened, or angry. Not even in tears.

Smiling.

The artwork shows the woman on the cover of the book is smiling.

Not wearing Prana in warrior pose looking invincible and fulfilled. No.

But, wait here just a darn minute! She hated her job. Right? And, she quit to teach yoga.

So, where is the artwork of a woman wearing Prana in warrior pose ... maybe a desk full of papers in the background? On fire?

Confused and irritated, I gave up at Chapter 9.

I will tell you one thing: she has a good agent. Or a PR firm -- well, she should. This book has ZERO reviews on Audible, yet a note at the bottom of her first person account of writing the book in "Cosmopolitan" indicates praise from "Shape" and "Working Mother" magazine.

Well, not me. Peace out!