Chapter 2 – Checklist of Success
One year, four months before getting fired.
- Current job: Consultant at a consulting firm that evaluates government programs.
- Dream job: Artist…or anything creative.
- How much I like my current job (scale of 1 to 10): 4
- How successful I feel about my “career” (scale of 1 to 10): 9.5
The worst part about work is the overtime. There always seems to be one last request of the day, which should only take 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes inevitably turns into thirty, then sixty minutes…and so on.
I usually put in 9 to 10-hour days, Monday to Thursday. Friday is usually better, but I never leave before 6:00pm.
Today is Friday, 5:22 PM, and I have two more documents to proof read before leaving work!
After a quick read through the first document I check the clock. It reads 6:45 PM.
“Enough!” I sigh.
I bounce off my chair and start packing my bags to leave.
“Screw it! I’ll come in early on Monday morning to finish the other.”
Before leaving my office, I stop in my tracks. There is always time for my departure ritual, that is to say, my daily pat on the back! It’s the only thing that carries me through the long workdays.
Poking my head into the hallway, I make sure nobody is nearby. I drop my bags to the floor, and take out my virtual checklist. The list confirms my worth as an important, successful career woman in the work world.
Suspended in mid-air, the list unspools like an ancient scroll with two rollers at each end.
Checklist of Success
#1. Commendable beyond the common cubicle.
First on my list is my office space…and what a sweet office! My eyes scan the room. This amazing office is the result of hard work and years of schooling.
“Well done!” I whisper. “#1. Check!”
#2. White collar wardrobe.
I open the door to my closet and find eight pair of high heels, two white dress shirts and two suit jackets.
Wearing professional clothing, while mostly uncomfortable, makes me feel important! In fact, they made me feel so significant that my ego boasts with pride. There’s no way a blue-collar job would make me feel so worthy…in the eyes of society.
“#2. Check!” I smiled proudly.
#3. Window-wall worthy
Finally, I look at my window and feel lucky to have it. From floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, it is no ordinary window; it’s a window-wall!
So many people working downtown in high-rises don’t have natural light going into their office, but I do!
“Splendid!” I nod my head. “#3. Check!”
I walk up to the window and soak in the cityscape. After my ritual, I usually grab my bag and step out the door. On this day, my routine is modified. I have an urge to stare out the window a little longer. Perhaps it’s the beauty of the sky, or I need a longer pat on the back.
Standing at the window, I push the palms of my hands and nose against the glass and look down to the street below. Cars are gridlocked, bumper to bumper. An ocean of people flood the sidewalks. A man with a bright red backpack stands at the bus stop.
“Do you have as nice an office as I do?” I whisper, speaking as though the man can hear me. “Mine is pretty sweet! A panoramic view!”
A view fit for a queen!
“I have a panoramic view!” I say aloud. “A panoramic view I have!”
Again, I repeat the words, this time with melody.
“A panoramic view I have, I have! A panoramic view I have!” I sing, putting emphasis on I have as heard in Henry the Eight song. After all, I do feel like royalty!
“Had I been one of Henry’s wives, I would have been the one who survived!” I announce. “Survived and triumphed as a queen!”
I suddenly hear a faint knock at my door.
Oh shoot! Did I forget to close the door?
I turn around and am startled to see Greta, my boss. Standing at the doorway with her oversized head, she stares me down with her typical look of annoyance.
I noticed early on that Greta had a slightly larger head than the norm. It isn’t strikingly obvious like one of those circus freaks, but if you look at her long enough, you can tell something is off balance.
As usual, she’s wearing one of her 1980’s blouses with shoulder pads.
I always wondered why she wore outdated blouses when surely, she had enough money to buy something more modern. Then one day she came to work without the shoulder pads and I knew right away. The shoulder pads give her a proper head-to-body proportion. Without them, her head is like a large round water buoy, easily spotted from miles away.
I heard that, as we age, the nose and ears are the only body parts that keep growing. Maybe in Greta’s case, it’s her whole head.
“Come to my office please!” she says in a monotone voice and blank expression on her face. She disappears into the hallway before I have a chance to reply.
Oh no! How long was she standing there?
My face flustered, I no longer feel like Henry the Eight’s surviving queen! I’m now the queen who is about to be beheaded!
Hesitantly, I make my way to Greta’s office. Arrived, I peek through the vertical glass pane. She’s reading a document at her desk. I creep quietly into the open doorway, waiting for her to look up. After a few moments, with no acknowledgment of my presence, I knock on the open door.
“Hello?” I mumble.
Glasses positioned halfway down her nose, Greta looks up. “Yes, come in.”
She motions for me to take a seat.
“You’ll be working on a new project starting Monday. It’s for a marketing program with H & R Resources. I’m telling you now because I won’t be here next week. Am going off to China!”
She pauses, waiting for me to make envious sounds. I can’t seem to make any.
My mind was too busy wondering if she heard me sing.
“Sydney will give you the details on Monday. You’ll be conducting surveys using our CATI system.”
CATI stands for Computer Assisted Telephone Interviewing system. One of twenty-five acronyms I had to figure out when I started working at Grant & Gambell. Only after I had created my own list, did one magically appear on my desk. Surely, someone from the CCMD meeting gave it to me.
As Greta explains the details about the project, my mind wanders back to the events of the CCMD meeting…what a disaster!