Ok class, by a show of hands, who here likes waiting on hold?
Anyone? Really, no takers? Why am I not surprised?
Now that we’ve established that pretty much everyone hates being left on hold for “a short moment,” let’s see if any of you can relate with my recent experience with America’s largest 3G cell phone carrier (you know, the one with the commercials featuring a slightly pudgy version of Luke Wilson):
Not to toot my own horn (I think that this is the first time I’ve ever typed the word toot… and that was the second), but I like to think that I’m above-average at four-square. And, no, not the social media phenomenon. I’m talking about the fact that I often spent my fair share of recess in square one (and, no, not this Square One). Now, admittedly, I’m no Christian Housh (mainly because he has much more interesting facial hair), but I was downright decent.
Talk about heartache… Talk about feeling like a terrible parent… Talk about a slight rush of relief…
Wait, what?? Oh, come on. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Any good parent that’s willing to admit it knows that there is a sense (albeit slight) of relief when you know that someone else will have to handle the terrible two’s for a least a short portion of the day. Well, for us, today is the first of many times that we will be experiencing this off mix of emotions.
Earlier this year, I accepted what (at the time) appeared to be the job of a lifetime. I mean, it was exactly what I was looking for. It was a step in the right direction that would, at the very least, open the door to future opportunities. The only problem was the not-so-minor detail that it was quite literally about 3 clicks due east of the Middle of Nowhere, Missouri.
Accepting the position meant moving about 1,200 miles away from all of our friends, family, and (last but not least) favorite restaurants (now, before you start judging, just think about it…). Saying goodbye to our relationships and support system was one thing. Establishing those anew in a completely unfamiliar place was another.
All in all, after months of really trying to fit in and to establish our family in a new place, it ended up that the job wasn’t quite all it appeared to be. It took only six months before we realized that the best move for our family was to move back home. Oddly enough, it probably took more courage to throw in the towel and admit defeat, but because of all the mess that we endured, we’ve had a chance to re-invest in those family ties and relationships that we had left behind on six months previous. To put it short, for us, moving back was the best decision we could have ever made.
So, how often in the average lifetime does this happen? Movingboxdelivery.com (which is, of course, an incredibly reliable information source) says that the average person will move 16 times in his or her lifetime. With an average that high, chances are that at some point or another, you’ll end up moving half-way across the country. We did it. My parents did it. Their parents did it. You probably will, too. It’s tough, but knowing that it will happen may just help us to cherish the relationships that we have now. That’s something I wish I had considered before we left. Luckily, my wife and I have a second chance on this one, and we’re taking it while we still have it.
The Verdict: Moving across town is tough. Moving away from family is tougher, though often unavoidable. Take the time to appreciate the family that surrounds you. Go to your niece’s soccer game or your crazy uncle’s backyard BBQ. They may not sound like the most exciting thing in the world right now, but, for some odd reason, they’re the first things you’ll miss after you leave.
Until a year and a half ago, I successfully managed to get through life owning exactly zero ties. That’s right. No neck ties. No bow ties. No railroad ties (that one sort of goes without saying, but you get the idea). It wasn’t until I was asked to help perform the funeral for a very dear friend that I finally broke down and purchased my first. It was yellow and a bit overpriced. I wore it once.
Now, fast forward a bit. From about 8:30am to 5:30pm, I find myself working in a fairly prestigious law firm, where the dress code includes dress pants, a dress shirt, nice shoes, and (wouldn’t you know) a tie. Now, let me again reiterate that I am not a “tie” person (nor am I a Thai person, but that’s neither here nor there… it’s actually here). If anything, I’m a jeans guy. I like to wear flip-flops (and no, I do not call them thongs like some people I have met. It just introduces too many weird mental images). I also have an extensive funny t-shirt collection. The problem is that none of these things are appropriate to wear when you’re working at a law firm.
I had always heard that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want, not the job you have, so on the day of the big interview (after re-learning how to tie a half-windsor), hoping to really make a good impression, I actually even wore a suit (which I bought 2 hours before the interview, but that’s a different story). After I knocked the interview out of the ballpark (while wearing a suit, no less), I found myself once again gainfully employed. I now had two things with which I was woefully unfamiliar: a tie and a desk job. Life was changing. It was changing very, very quickly.
I now occupy my days by working feverishly, slaving away at my desk, wearing my tie, looking out the window at the fairly heavy-set guys who play frisbee without shirts on (did I mention that our office overlooks one of our cities best parks?). Although I never pictured myself doing this, this is what I do (how existential is that??). I don’t hate it. I actually like the job. The tie is just part of the package. If I need to wear a tie so that I can provide for my family, then so be it.
So how many more times in my life will I have to wear a tie? More likely than not, it will be quite a few. I plan on being employed for a while (though at times in the past, this has been somewhat out of my control), which means that on each weekday (except Casual Friday, of course), I’ll be wearing a tie. So, let me whip out my trusty-dusty calculator…
4 days a week x 52 weeks a year x 48 working years (a rough average) = 9,984 working days that require wearing a tie.
(Of course, that’s quite a generalization. It’s assuming that you started working at 17 and stopped working at 65, and that wearing a tie is a requirement of your job)
The Verdict: It’s a necessary evil. At the end of the day, it’s not worth quitting a job over, so just muddle through. Then, once you retire, start a bonfire using your ties as kindling.
