This is from the height of my career-changing-confusion days. Dated April 2001.
“Virgo: If change doesn’t seem to be on the horizon, don’t worry – just wait and it will come. Often we resist change, saying, ‘Things are just fine as they are, thank you.’ To this, Saturn just laughs. Saturn’s job is to make you more mature, so there’s no way you are going to get off the hook, even if you want to. Saturn works slowly and gradually. As a rule, it doesn’t inflict responsibility – it asks you to sign up for it. Thus, you will ASK for whatever is on its way, and wisely, ACCEPT it when it arrives. It could truly be a grand opportunity with much room for growth. Don’t worry so much, Virgo.”
I think about what this means as I turn off my computer. At the end of each month, I read my horoscope on a certain web site for the coming month’s forecast. My roommates and I swear by this astrologer: she’s always right on target and has predicted many events in our lives. I look over at the digital clock on my desk as my computer screen fades away. 7:40pm. I decide that it’s too late to do anything substantial with my evening. On nights that I don’t plan things with friends, I usually waste away the last few hours of the day on something mind numbing but satisfying in a lazy way, like watching television or scribbling things in my notebook.
Another end to another intolerable day at the office. I gather my belongings, get in the elevator and take it to the lobby. When I arrive there, I see that three out of four entrances to the building are locked and the only door we can still exit from has two security guards standing by. This is what happens after 7pm each night. Recently, I have been saying good night to the same guards too often, a clear indication that I am working too late.
Ugh, it’s raining again. Passing the same café that I pass every day on the way out of the building, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. I make a face – I don’t like what I see and continue walking. Secretly, I’ve hated my job for about eight months now. That’s an extremely long time considering how much I used to be devoted to it. This is my first job out of college. I remember at the end of the summer after graduation, I was ready for this new phase in my life – beginning a career. Even though I didn’t really know what that meant. After my first few weeks, I was in love. The work was engaging, the people were so kind and generous to me and I had great perks. All of them were young and cool and in places in their lives that I wanted to be. When talking with others my age, they would comment that I’m one of the few in my age group that seems to enjoy his or her job. I got a thrill from knowing that they were able to deduce such a conclusion without ever hearing me say the words “I love my job.”
It’s crowded on the subway as it typically is on rainy days. I cram in with everyone else until we’re all standing perfectly straight and holding our breath, as if we’re a can of sardines. Even still, no one looks at one another, as if afraid to connect. Some people push me to make more room and I have no energy to truly express how annoyed I am. Annoyed with people pushing me when there’s no where to go, annoyed with the lack of growth in my job, annoyed that I work so late each evening that I have no personal downtime. When did this feeling begin, anyway? I guess it began with my one-year performance review. I was supposed to get a good raise and promotion – it was somewhat implied by my managers. Ultimately, I didn’t and I began to resent them. I was outraged: I worked 11-hour days and had nothing to show for it. Although I did get verbal praise on my accomplishments, I wasn’t rewarded for my efforts. My perspective on everything soured – the work became boring, the people seemed fake to me and the value of the perks were waning. Plus, frustrating incidents have been adding up. Like today, Jon came over to my desk to inform me that I should be more “specific” when sending programming requests to him. The only reason he brought this up because he let something I requested fall to the wayside and forgot to do it for two weeks. So he had to think quickly and cover himself, shift blame. I described his conversation with me to Heather and we had a good laugh over it.
I’ve been looking for a new job since the end of last year. I did get two job offers but I turned both down. In a sense, I was afraid to leave my first job. There are some days, like today, that I wonder if I made a mistake not accepting one of those offers. There’s no sweeter revenge than walking out on people who won’t give you what you need and what they promised. Yes, I’ll admit that sometimes I’m spiteful. But only sometimes.
The subway screeches to a halt and masses of people pour out of the train car. I weave my way out of that mess and start up the stairs. A man coming down leans in and says “Bitch.” He’s gone before I can say anything or even get a good look at his face. Perfect, just perfect, I think to myself. What else is going to go wrong today? I didn’t do a single thing to anyone and he tries to instigate something. He’s lucky he got away so quickly. I’m in a fighting mood today. I laugh, picturing myself drop-kick him. I begin walking briskly from the subway station to my apartment, carefully sidestepping the puddles. I don’t know why there are always so many.
When I reach my block, I see a guy walking a few feet in front of me. He turns for a moment and looks at me. I recognize him as living in my building, and sure enough, he heads into my building. By the time I arrive at the door, he’s holding it open for me.
“Thank you,” I say as I fold up my umbrella and walk through the doorway.
“You’re welcome.”
I unlock my mailbox to pick up the letters and advertising for the day. As I wait for the elevator, I look through the pile to see if there’s anything of interest. Cable bill, phone bill, my roommate’s dentist appointment reminder, and a thick envelope of coupons. Nope, nothing interesting. The guy who held the door for me is waiting as well and he looks up, looks down, as if looking for words to say. Finally after many awkward seconds, he says, “I wonder if it’s going to clear up tomorrow.”
“ I hope so,” I reply and laugh.
Silence again. So I pitch in with, “It’s no where near as bad as yesterday though.”
“Oh yeah, I know. Yesterday was really bad.”
The elevator door opens. He gestures for me to go first.
“Thanks.” I walk in and I notice that his hands are full with bags of groceries so I ask him which floor.
“Four,” he replies.
“Oh perfect.” I smile.
“You too, right?”
“Yes,” I say, as I press 4, somewhat surprised that he knew.
“So where do you live?”
“Oh, we’re in E.”
“Oh so on the other side of the building,” he says, leaning his head to the right.
“Yup, first apartment on that side. How about you?”
“Oh, I’m in A. Right out of the elevator.”
The elevator door opens, loudly. This time I let him go first.
He stops just outside the elevator. “This is me.”
“See you later,” I say and begin walking to my apartment, in the other direction from him.
“What’s your name?” he shouts out and I turn around. I begin walking back towards him. I introduce myself and he offers his hand. “Keith,” he says.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
I begin walking away, sideways. “So maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, see you around.”
I walk back towards my door and unlock it. As I enter, I let my bag and umbrella fall to the floor and I wonder if it will clear up tomorrow.
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