Today was my first day at my first "big girl job".
It was the first day I picked out an outfit for my big girl job. (I decided to rep K-State with this classy polo from TjMaxx... I'm a Maxxinista.)
Today was the first day I sorted mail from over 400 different clients. It was the first day I met someone from the middle east, who has brothers in the army fighting against ISIS. I have a badge that gives me access to a building paved with marble (for the first time). I was granted my own (first) personal cubical with my (first) personal phone with my (first) personal work computer with my (first) personal work email. I have blisters from high heels that I wore to work (for the first time). And I'm looking forward to the first time that I will get my first check from my first full-time job after college.
Wow, that was a mouthful.
But what I'm thinking is a mind-full. (That phrase is patent-pending... or should be.) As I worked on the fifth floor of a giant office building in a giant office complex, I thought of how many busy bees were plugging away alongside me. Were they living their dreams? Were their dreams when they were little to grow up and work for a marketing firm? Did they want to answer calls from disgruntled employees, or file mail, or scan documents, work security, or made id badges, or oversee the entire building? If not, did that become their dream once they starting working there?
I spoke to a woman who started there as a temp and has now been working as the main receptionist for over 19 years. I can't imagine doing something for 19 years if I didn't love it, so I'm assuming she loves it, but you know what they say about assuming... "Assumptions are probably right about 99% of the time." (I like my phrase better.)
Somewhere between the complementary and delicious coffee and the 200th filed letter, a thought so complex crossed my mind. This thought floats around my mind like smoke; it's there and visible, but I can't touch or capture it. Even so, I'll do my best to summarize it.
Maybe the "dream" is to have a job where they can support their actual dreams. Maybe the dream is to have a house that's paid for, a family that's well-fed and well-dressed, a two-week vacation once a year, seven paid sick days, six national holidays off, a bank account that is sufficiently full two times a month, and maybe even a glass of wine with dinner. Maybe those 40 hours a week doing something that's just "okay" is worth sacrificing for the actual dream.
Maybe that idea is "smoke" to me, because that's just not me. Somewhere between turning down a great educational opportunity, watching my grandma suffer through cancer, being married for a year and a half, and traveling I've learned enough about myself to realize that I want something different for my life. That makes me feel kind of bad, because that life I described earlier sounds beautiful. It would be comfortable, loving, peaceful, and is what (I think) the majority of the population wants.
But I want adventure.
I want to see a million and one places, and still be planning the next trip.
I want to kiss under the Eiffel Tower.
I want to cry with the victims of the holocaust.
I want to serve Jesus's people.
I want to capture and document everything beautiful about the world, and write about the bad things, just to acknowledge that they exist.
I want to change someone's opinion about something.
I want to argue politics.
I want to eat way too much cake and call it "taking in the culture."
I want to show my family just how much I love them.
I want to work hard at something, and taste the success afterwards.
I want to be restless, because I am restless.
I want to be so miserably lost that I find myself, one piece at a time... starting with this job.
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