Anyway, I can't say that I've ever been on the receiving end of any type of life-altering revelation because of my honest face. No one has ever admitted to committing a crime or something juicy. It's usually more along the lines of people admitting to hating their jobs or sharing they hide wine in the bathroom during family events so they can sneak away and drink in peace and quiet. Occasionally, someone hints at things like marital woes or the incredible loathing they feel for their next door neighbor who puts their Christmas lights up on November 1 (I agree this is annoying), but that's as scandalous as it ever gets. I'm fine with this. I have no desire to be the person who knows scandalous things.
Sometimes the random thing a person tells me makes me get a person a bit more or is so spot on about my own life I can't stop thinking about the thing they said. At work recently, a colleague made a comment that I'm still thinking about days later. The comment was about getting to a point in life where they no longer worked for "the man." It was a fascinating comment, especially given that this person is the someone who some might refer to as "the man." It was eye-opening and a little odd, but also really awesome.
I'm going to be 40 in 2019. I find this astounding on many levels because A. I still think of my parents as "adults" but am unclear if I am one and B. I still get excited when I get carded at the movies (which does occasionally happen) or when buying alcohol. There's a C too; I haven't done many of the things people who are about to turn 40 are supposed to have done, like buy property or get married. As organized as I am, I'm not a fan of societal timelines. When my colleague said the thing about having a deadline on working for the man, I had to hide my surprise and then squirreled the comment away for later.
I never really set out to do the job I have today. When I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina lawyer. I moved onto criminologist, historian (specially on weird things like cults and odd historical sites), and finally onto to my theatre work (both in front of house and in costuming). I didn't set out to teach or work in admissions, and I never sat down and thought, "I think employee learning is my dream job. I should do that." I've basically stumbled into my career and I'm totally fine with that. Stumbling into a career isn't unusual; someone has to be an artisan cheesemaker or a the person who wrote this book. I'm good at what I do and enjoy it....most days. You know, like a normal person feels about their job.
So when my colleague made the comment about "the man," I started thinking about my own life and my own timeline of not wanting to work for "the man." What does not working for the man even mean? Does it mean not working for a corporate entity or larger organization? Does it mean being my own boss? Does it mean not having to work at all and money just magically appearing? Would I somehow become "the man" if I worked for myself? Do I have a timeline for this? How do I define "working for the man?" Does it matter if I like the work I do? Can I just go on doing this forever? I don't know I necessarily have the answer to any of these questions, but I can't help think of them in a somewhat obsessive fashion. Basically, my non-working hours consist of me thinking the following questions: why is Keely sometimes super affectionate and other times tries to eat my leg, how much glitter do I still need to buy to finish these purses, and what's my working for the man timeline?
I only have answers to the first two questions: he's a cat and cats are weird/adorable ninja murderers and to quote Mean Girls, "the limit does not exist." As I enter the fourth decade of my life (what an excellently epic thing to write), I believe this will be the question I need to answer.
Rounding out December: My mother discovers Pinterest and more on making the world sparkle, one glitter purse at a time. In January, we celebrate the 400th Island post and "Answer Your Cat's Questions" Day returns.
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