Last in the Rat Race

“Procrastination won’t hurt you as long as you start early.”
– Ellen Lupton

(Fast Company “Time and Identity: What Your Clock Says About Your Personality“)

I honestly can’t remember the train of thought – clicks – that landed me on this page, but it did start as a legit search on a work-related topic.

http://www.squidoo.com/recyclepetfur

I have to go vomit now.

It’s 4:45 and I’m done. Ready to wrap up the day, but feel the need to stay until 5:00 (damn German work ethic). So, piddling around, search my computer, I find a gem. GAMES! Usually banned on our office machines, our IT department had clearly overlooked their removal as I stood in the doorway to their workspace, tapping my foot, waiting for my new laptop. (did I mention that one of the guys was actually asleep at his workstation while I was waiting on my new computer? hm… I’d say my tapping was justified.)

So, I sneak in a little Spider Solitaire. Damn addictive game, but it’s a good time killer.

Speeding through round after round, bound to win ONE game before quitting time, I hear footsteps outside my door. Minimizing the screen and pulling up something IMPORTANT, I turn to find… the Talker. The partner who can’t shut up. Crap. If only I had left when the opportunity had presented.

30 minutes later, I’m free.

Geesh. No more games at work. Bad things happen.

Courtesy of Kay Yates, Super Corporate Secretary.

Crews are filming a George Clooney movie next door to our office today.

Trailers are set up in the back parking lot.

No work is getting done.

Need a secretary? Try the north offices. You’ll find them there, all atwitter, with their noses glued to the windows.

(not much time to post… I have, uh, something that needs to be… uh… filed. reviewed. gotta go!)

I don’t do magazines. They seem to be a waste of paper and largely focused on things that don’t interest me (new OPI shades, “fun” meals under 100 cals, what my man really wants in bed).

REAL SIMPLE is different. They revel in finding the perfect shortcut: decent meals in 5 minutes or less; finding yet another use for the ubiquitous lemon; and my recent favorite – how to recycle anything.

So I let my subscription slip. Last time I ordered it through Kate’s school – getting something I wanted while at the same time pacifying the MomGuiltMonster that keeps us throwing money at the people who care for our kids. Today, however, I gave in to the 100th email about how they really REALLY want me back. Wow, to be so missed.

Whatever.

I actually missed the mag so I signed up online.

Bypassing the offer to have them charge my credit card for the rest of my natural born life (their simple solution to those pesky renewal notices), I asked to be billed.

The next screen was easy – name, address, etc.

The final screen, culminating in a glorious “SUBMIT YOUR ORDER” button, had two final options: select to receive either “Health” or “Cooking Light” free for two months. I skipped happily by those, selecting neither, and hit “Submit”.

Rejection.

“You must select either ‘Health’ or ‘Cooking Light’ to proceed with your order.”

WTF?

I read the fine print by both options – either way I would be forced to send back their invoice with “Cancel” written on it. Usually not a big deal, but I have failed in the past to master this one, minor step. It sucks. Cancelling is hard, and they make it harder by sending you renewal options and alternative billing options every three days for the next year.

So, in order to receive a magazine who’s misison is to make my life “SIMPLE”, I HAVE TO ADD ANOTHER TASK TO MY ALREADY ADDLED BRAIN?!

I feel bad for the customer service rep who picked up my call.

(1) What do you do when everyone you meet seems to have a better or more fulfilling career than you? (i just can’t seem to find my special talent… where is that pesky thing hiding?!?)

(2) We’re heading to the baseball game tonight. MRA is out of town, so it’s girls’ night out. We’ll take the train downtown, eat hot dogs, drink beer and slurp a sno cone. I’m guessing we won’t make it to the fourth inning.

(3) How many times will your parents drunk-dial you before you finally let them have it. HA! I have the answer to that one – twice. They hung up on me. Should be a lovely Easter.

How is it that the government is willing to commit millions… billions… of dollars to various economic stimulus projects, yet STL is forced to cut back its public transportation to bare bones?

Where is the stimulus in that?

It seems like each Spring brings a host of emotions to the surface. After being cooped up all winter, we’re anxious to get out, breathe in the fresh clean air (cool, yet with a hint – hope – of warmth), and start anew. Restlessness abounds.

It’s the starting anew part I’m wrestling with these days. I think I’m done. That is, I think I need a career change. I’ve been on this bus for nearly 8 years and I’m getting a little tired of the scenery. The people are fine – some I really like – but the sense of accomplishment is often outweighed by the sense of missing something better in myself. It is a “service industry”. Lawyers serve the clients. I serve the lawyers. I’m not looking for fame or accolades, but I think I’m missing something of me here. In my meteoric (ha! mediocre is more like it) rise to the middle, I’ve come to realize that I’m not great at any one thing. Except perhaps taking it on the chin when things go awry. I can do many things just fine – but that’s all they really need from me here. Not greatness, not superiority. Just good.

Should there be greatness in one’s work? Is this all there is?

Last summer, when gas was $4/gal and the closing of “my section” of Highway 40 loomed, MRA and I decided to send Kate to a new school. We loved, LOVED DCC, but the above, combined with the fact that she was old enough to attend the one we had in mind, it was just too much to ignore.

So, August came around, we bid DCC adieu and began again at Clayton Child Center. Three blocks south of our house, this new school was perfect – in a “real” school building, highly regarded, and in my direct path to the MetroLink just another 1/4 mile away. That’s right. I was going green, becoming a true urbanite in my little innersuburban community. I could now leave the car in the garage for days on end, take the train to work, walk my kid to school AND save a little money. Of course, that last part probably didn’t materialize as I now needed new street-cred tennies and a cool sling back to complete the urbanite look. Whatever. A little vanity never killed…

There was one little worry – word on the street was that the school was up for sale and they might need to move. I asked and was assured that nothing was in the works and that the school had, in fact, been for sale for years. Given the horrid state of the real estate market, MRA and I figured no one in their right minds would buy a 100 year old school building in this economy. We were wrong.

Months into my walking-to-school-train-commuting bliss, the news hit. The center was moving to a new building IN RICHMOND HEIGHTS! I was furious with them. And with myself. We had JUST moved Kate to this school so I could take the train. She had transitioned fine, but still, it wasn’t a snap. Grrr….

So here we are. It’s the last day of walking/training to school and work. Monday we’re on to the new school building no where near a Metro stop. And for me, it’s back to the hell of the highway – no, wait, the highway is still closed. Even better. Side streets, construction zones, gas stations and rush hour. For the past 8 months, I’ve spent rush hour in other states, countries and times, immersed in great books. My fellow commuters sit in similarly perfect isolation. It was MY time. Time when no one needs me. No one knows me. And I could ignore it all and just think MY thoughts.

Did I mention that Metro is in a financial crisis and is cutting back service to save money? Monday will be awful for more people than just me. Some no longer have ANY transportation to work. I should count my blessings and write my state rep for the others.