KFC or Happily Ever After?

My day started off just a little off--with my blackberry pinging early. I just finished doing my treadmill, about to watch the news, but I had to check it in case it was something important. Not important. But indicative of where exactly I am in my life. I read two emails from staff members at work. One was about being "courteous when using break room refrigerators--crock pots from pot lucks must be removed." I hate pot lucks. The other was from someone asking me to please explain what "BTW" means. "You always use that in your emails to me." she wrote. Hmmm. Good morning Lynnie. This is who you are now. The manager of The Office.

When I lost my gig at the small house that Grover built, I panicked. Wasn't quite sure if it was time to leave the life I made here yet. Even if that life had morphed. No guy anymore. And now no gig. But I had my park. And my cute little house. And the few friends who didn't abandon me because I wasn't their manager who could promote them anymore. But it was enough. For now.

I took the first job that came my way. Okay the second. The first was so bad, I had to quit. In a recession. I quit a job. The one I have now is working for the State. My ex worked for the State and encouraged me to look into these government media jobs "in case something happens." But at the same time, he secretly warned me: You'll hate it. He was right about both.

As I read the message about "what is BTW" I thought--what am I doing here? These people aren't like me? Some don't even know how to attach a word doc to an email? This place isn't like me--I don't do nacho day pot lucks?!! I drank my coffee, now laced with something called Stevia, thanks to the 8 lbs I gained working at my prisoner-made state desk. And I watched a story on the Today Show about a couple who just won $226 million in the lottery. They almost didn't. She wanted KFC for dinner. He wanted Hawaiian BBQ. That's where he bought the winning ticket. Now normally I would rail on anyone who eats at a restaurant that also sells lottery tickets--but thank god this guy had fried poi instead of giving into his wife's cravings for that new chicken on chicken sandwich thing.

Second cup of coffee. I thought--See? One tiny decision can change your life forever. For some--it brings millions. For others, it brings you to Sacramento. And keeps you there. If I had said no to the PP--when he first asked me out--where would I be? What would I have gained? (besides the 8 lbs) I know what I've lost. I DO believe, that all the experiences have been worth it--even the losses--but this morning I felt--Hey!BTW--WHEN IS IT MY TURN?

I wish I could like the state gig. It's a good job. Free xrays as I mentioned before. And it's a job I can keep forever. They can't fire you! They've got this super-human-union with people shouting in purple shirts--anytime you get mad about nacho day! I"m managing a group of  mostly--young, enthusiastic communications peeps who want to learn. Them--I can handle. But it's what's hanging out at the pot lucks along the periphery that is making me sad. Sad maybe, because I wish I could be like them--rushing home at 4:48 to their families. Counting down the days til they retire-- on post-it notes. But I can't. I've had 20+ years of loving my jobs. Loving the people. Laughing like crazy. And yes. I haven't always had benefits or a 401K but I joked with the KGB in the Kremlin waiting for Raisa Gorbachev to join us. It's never been "just a paycheck."

If I just made the decision to say no to that dinner, would I still be working with those high caliber creative types that don't care about their fifteen minute breaks or accumulating 3,291 hours of sick time? That's hard to say. One little decision can change your life forever. What was yours? I said yes for a reason--or maybe for hundreds. The first date turned out to be the best I ever had. Then, I thought--wow--right decision--no matter what happens.

Well it's happened. And I think it's time to make another life-changing decision--even if the choices are moving in with mom and dad at 47 or joining the Peace Corps. And BTW...everything you heard about how great government jobs are--is wrong. And BTW...I may be calling Michael Moore. More on that later.