I am successful and a failure, simoultaneously. (Think I used a French spelling or something there...yikes. This is where it will be good to get back to a weekly post instead of flying by the seat of my pants nightly about 6 minutes before bed.) If I were to look at my time outside of work (what little there is), then at the moment I would consider my life to be successful. I'm constantly exploring the City, writing and meeting people.
If I were to look at my life at work, I would say I am a failure.
The job that I do that pays the bills consists of two activities--directing construction and maintenance guys on which pump or nail or sawzall or FUBAR to buy (that FUBAR thing is fun stuff--see my earlier post on demolition), and staging product for people to pick up. I don't mind talking to the guys--very few of them are husband material, but occasionally one of them is respectful and enjoys a good laugh with me. "That's a LOT of tape. Who are you tying up?" The interaction aspect is good for the soul.
Okay, it's better when they speak English, but you can't win them all.
Where the failure comes into play is the fact that my job as a MANAGER utilizes none of the following skills that I possess:
- I can write the pants off 99% of the people who manage in the district.
- I got phone skillz.
- I got quality assurance skillz.
- I taught adults for 7 years, so there's an intense amount of training skillz there as well.
I'm working on getting out. Walking through Oakland in the dark at 6:30 every morning made THAT abundantly clear.
Meantime, I'm looking at the miniature class reunion happening right now on Facebook and my glaring failure is ugly--
But, at least I've got something to look forward to in not being at work from time to time. Even alone, I get the chance to kind of heal up at night and on weekends.
Sea breeze. Springsteen. Garcia Marquez. PHILZ, God Bless Him. Fog. Foghorns.
And my beauty, ze GG Bridge.
Sleep well dear reader. Dream of success.
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