No time for a shower and I’m honestly hoping I’ll get a minute to sneak up to the fitness center I joined for four months at some point. Missed a bus but oddly another one rolled up a minute later and I sat in the back where this woman carefully applied her makeup as we rolled into downtown and for a moment I remember thinking I was pretty happy to not be worried about some things.
Before I got my scores back I heard the sing song everyone in the industry offered as advice: we hate this work. I worked for people I saw gripping smoke and coffee breaks like their day would explode without them. I saw the promise that going postal would provide wickedly smart people locked up in the depression afforded to the unfortunate and well-meaning people who settle for the restrictions of a typical career in a typical industry that pay a typically great salary for being typical.
Living in the domain of other people is something you get familiar with in college. It’s a unique experience for most; those of you who went to boarding schools or those fancy East Coast prep schools were rocking the roommates even earlier. Maybe boarding schools and prep schools are the same thing, actually…honestly I’m just a Midwest guy who played soccer and passed Calculus.
I rolled off the highway into the neighborhood that’s the only one in Chicago that’s ever felt like a hood to me, and I was at the tail end of a trip downtown to likely spend as much time parking as I’d spend sitting at the restaurant with three or four old friends for an hour catching up.
I’ve developed a taste for single malt scotch, avocados, and sushi. I’ve been in two car accidents that should have killed me, and emerged unscathed from both. I’ve had coffee with the President’s daughter and I’ve debated everything under the sun with a myriad of different people with different backgrounds and diverse perspectives.