If you’ve had the fortitude to stick with this blog since my first post (I’m Not Arguing That With You) you may recall I was miserable with my pathetic career choices and fantasized about changing my life…essentially getting my groove back:
But holy crap it would be so nice to just walk in and…
Well, I finally did it.
I decided to start my own business. My wife was with me 100 percent. Sure, the economy sucks ass (thanks Mr. Bush and friends) but she believes in me. (She was also probably categorically sick of my bellyaching and wanted me to get my groove back, too.)
So, for several months I planned my work and worked my plan…I ate my daily quota of shit, avoided mirrors (who needed the pitying look one gets from one’s self?) and quietly laid the ground work for my daring daylight escape.
The day finally came when I was ready. The new business incorporated, bank account open with a whopping $100, business cards printed. I even had some customers.
One task remained; one I both relished and feared.
I walked in to Mr. Waturi’s crappy little office, looked him in his piggy little eyes and told him effective immediately I was outta there.
“This life, what a joke. This situation… this room….you look like a bag of shit stuffed in a cheap suit.”
Okay, actually I didn’t say that. Instead I said thanks for a great opportunity, but I just wanted to try to do my own thing.
His mouth moved like that of a goldfish in a bowl, but no sound issued. His piggy eyes widened.
After what seemed an eternity he (and I am paraphrasing because he actually stammered around for twenty minutes–going through all the phases of grief) said:
“Please stay.” (He was stuck on the bargaining phase, I guess.)
I was totally blown away, and for a moment I indulged him in his promises to make things more tolerable; his hints at greater things to come if only I would give up another humiliating year or two of my career. If only I would let him feast on the rich moist center of my career meatloaf until all that was left was sawdust and ketchup.
But I did not waver. Instead I agreed to stay on a few months to help ease the transition. (And earn a tidy nest egg for the business to boot).
That transition has now ended and I’m happily working away at my business. Now it’s up to me to make my own dreams come true. No more fantasizing about easy ways out, either.
I have to say…it did feel good to say farewell to Mr. Waturi. I’m no longer arguing that with him. Sure, I have a totally new set of fears to conquer, but at least I’m longer waiting for my real life to begin.
I gotta get my groove back.
Step one: Take back my career.
The dumb ass.