Simple is not really my style. I’m a very detailed oriented person. Let me warn you now, I’m long winded = I talk a lot. I need to recap every detail in order to tell a story. Reader beware 😉
In the last year, I’ve changed careers – went from a 5 minute commute to a 60+ minute adventure to work. I’ve learned that I really don’t know much about anything. It’s time to start pushing myself. I jumped from the corporate world to the awesome start up tech industry. You know those people who love what they do for a living? You know the kind – they don’t consider their job “work” because they are getting paid to do something they love. I’m one of them now.
I have a lot on my mind. Generally, I try to be a nice person – this doesn’t always work out to my advantage. But being positive is a goal of mine as of late. So I try. Since I wear my heart on my sleeve, it’s very easy for someone (who’s paying attention) to know what I’m thinking. Thanks to my dad, I flare my nostrils when I’m irritated, stressed, annoyed, frustrated, and mad. It’s not my fault. I have really high expectations of how people should treat others; especially in customer service. It’s really easy for people to let me down. I’m working on it. I know the world’s not fair but I still get really upset if something unfair happens. For example, the other day while riding the bus home from work I was asked to move out of my seat because they had to let a disabled man on. Now before I get too ahead of myself let me set the record straight. I never (and I mean never) sit in the row marked for the senior citizens or disabled passengers. This time was no different which is why I was a little shocked when the bus driver told me to move too. But I did. That’s the right thing to do. Well, after the driver moved the rows to clear the way for the wheelchair, she realized she didn’t need my row after all. As I began to ask if I could have my seat back, the woman – the snobby, stuck up woman who sat in the row designated for the senior citizens or persons with disabilities, with her purse on the seat next to her so no one could sit beside her – jacked MY seat! Just like that. She took my comfy, already warm, and contoured to my butt seat. I was shocked. I gasped! Awww 😦 that was my seat. Now instead of having one of my favorite seats (toward the front & next to the window) I’m forced to sit next to someone who clearly didn’t want to share her row either. I’m towards the middle, in an aisle seat, and hanging over the side with the arm rest up my butt. Immediately I was feeling sorry for myself. This isn’t fair! I was thinking out all the different ways I could get my seat back. Or how I should have objected to the bus driver in the first place. My row wasn’t marked for senior citizens or disabled people, so why should I move? But no. I sat there, uncomfortably, telling myself to get over myself. Here I am, upset because I’m not in my “favorite” seat and the man across the aisle from me is in a wheelchair. How much more self-centered can I be?! I choked down my pride and returned to the book I was reading.
Back on track… work and my commuting experience are not all that define me. But here is a good place to start. I spend about 10 hours a week commuting, more than some and less than most I’m sure. And about an average of 45 hours at work. That’s a good enough reason for me. I’ll try for more entertainment in the next post.