One Setback, Two Steps Forward

Another first today, on the road to nirvana.

Within the safe confines of my mind, my idea makes perfect sense. Not only do I see a consumer need that I think I’m qualified to meet, but I envision a philosophy, brand and identity that address a gaping hole in the financial-services landscape. I’m not the one to point out – but will repeat here – that the best known brands out there set themselves apart not by virtue of what they do, but why. (To borrow the example from the video I just linked to, many companies make computers, phones, etc. Meanwhile, Apple’s meteoric rise above all competitors can be attributed to the fact that they’ve had a very clear purpose along the way: to make products that challenge the status quo.) I mention this only to make the connection that the ‘Why?’ of my idea is extremely clear to me, so naturally I feel poised for Applesque success. (That’s how that works, right?)

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Nice Try, World.

Even as someone who has been keenly aware of many ways in which the 9-to-5 office worker is a creature of habit (in case you’ve forgotten), these early days of my New Reality have brought with them a few reminders that there are whole parts of everyday life that are not part of the 9-to-5er’s routine. Some of these feel surprisingly foreign to navigate. Things like choosing when to shower and weekday/daytime grocery shopping.

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A Heavy-Handed Analogy Concerning The Author’s Present Circumstance

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Franklin: “Happy to have you aboard! I think you’re really going to love it here.”

Isaac: “Me too! I’m excited to join the team!”

The two shook hands in a symbolic consummation of their professional relationship – the gesture to make spiritually official what was already ‘official’ in a more literal sense. Franklin held the signed employment agreement in his left hand, smiling as he cordially showed Isaac to the exit with his right.

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All the Best, Susan

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An envelope arrived at my desk today.

No, this envelope was not ambulatory. More precisely – it arrived by way of a shadowy figure in my peripheral vision, not unlike the way in which I imagine the fuzz will one day show up to hold me accountable for my movements on White-Collar Purgatory. (They’ll arrive three-abreast, resplendent in their dark suits and black sunglasses, holding big lasery-looking weapons. No, wait – now I’m just thinking about Men In Black. Never mind.)

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Scenes from the Elevator

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Her: Good morning, how are you?!

Him: *wearily* Too early to tell… *pause* Well, at least it’s Thursday, right?

Her: *cheerily* I have tomorrow off, so it’s a great day!

Him: Would you shut up already?

*end scene*

[Editor’s note: research recently fabricated by the author suggests that a version of this conversation happens approximately 11.8 million times daily across the globe, with the degree of optimism observed – in tone and content – varying in direct proportion to the current day of the week. Fridays tend toward cosmic liberation. Mondays are a tether to Beelzebub’s hearth.]

Too Portly to Party

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Roderick had been looking forward to this year’s holiday event.

He was just six months into his tenure with the company, but was already feeling the sense of belonging that he had been notably lacking at any of his previous employers. Granted, his career path had been fairly atypical of this environment: having spent a number of years doing manual labour, he had eventually made inroads into the coveted world where policy expressly forbids you from doing any literal heavy lifting*, should such an opportunity even present itself. (That’s what the maintenance guys are for.) Now on his second office job, he was digging the culture, the people and the seldom-occupied shitter up on 9.

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