I considered not going out last night.
I’d already gone to Walgreen’s to buy food, and to the library to borrow some Paula Danziger books I loved. I wrote blog posts for DISGRASIAN and for Gapers Block, and had a phone interview for a contract position that didn’t sound like a good fit.
This is all part of me moving on, finding a new job and restarting my life in a way. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have drinks with old co-workers at a nice bar/restaurant one block away from the old office.
KK called me, and I told her I was thinking about not going. She said I should, just because it’s good to get out and network and if it doesn’t feel fun I could always leave. Sadly, KK wasn’t going as she was going to an event about investment and zombies. Yeah, she kinda lost me there, so we hung up, and I put on some makeup.
I caught the 156 LaSalle bus, which was my preferred method of commuting when I last worked. It’s weird to take it downtown during the evening rush hour. Instead of zipping through Lincoln Park, picking up caffeinated commuters in the morning, the 156 had few riders as it ran through the dark. Once we hit the Loop, I felt odd nostalgia as we drove past places where I used to eat lunch and run errands.
Getting off at Adams and Wacker, I had to pause when I saw the old building. It made me a little sad to see it. I thought about chickening out, but I didn’t. I moved ahead, and made my way to the bar.
The get-together was in full swing when I got there. The old colleagues occupied a bunch of tables near the entrance, occasionally withstanding a burst of cold air whenever anyone, a departing patron or a smoker sneaking outside for “some fresh air”, would forget to use the revolving door.
I managed to talk to just about everyone, even if just for a few seconds, and I was glad to hear most folks were doing okay. A colleague who was just laid off last week was in good spirits, giving me an update on the adventures of her charming dog. I talked to my friend Taylor about his band and his plans for a business that sounded so amazing I wish I could share it with you. But I think I might want to get his permission first before I write about it here.
I talked to Dan a whole bunch. I love talking to Dan. Mainly because he is hilarious and smart (and yes, I know he’s reading this) but also because he has always been kind.
Dan told me, like Jacqui and Leah and Andrew and Dave and Nadine and Nick and a bunch of other people over the years, that I need to write. I need to make a go of the writing thing. That I’m good, that I write things he enjoys reading. I think this is something I’ve written more about in the last eleven years of blogging more than anything else I’ve ever covered in this blog. More so than food or boys or the lack of interested boys. It’s funny that the way I worry and wonder about being a writer by writing about it. Which makes me a writer about writing, or non-writing, I guess.
I promised Dan I’d dedicated my blog (or at least this blog post) to him. So here it is. Dan, thank you for the encouragement and the cajoling.
Before I get all weepy, back to last night. I told Dan and another colleague, Clark, about the fake resumé I once wrote and submitted to a job listing advertised by my former employer years ago. This was just to test whether or not the HR person at the time was actually looking for applicants for a position my boss was trying to fill. The resumé made it through, but not to my boss. It got to Chris, another manager. We didn’t know he’d gotten the file until he started yelling about it, at which point my boss started giggling, and I confessed the resumé of one “Andrew Ridgeley” was, in fact, a work of fiction.
It may be one of my best works.