Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Wind Therapy

This morning I take a walk during my break. As I make my rounds, I notice a car parked in an odd spot in the parking lot. I realize there is a man sitting in the car. I try not to stare, but I feel uncomfortable with a stranger in the lot. I head back into the lobby. Al is over by the fax machine. I tell Al about the stranger and he volunteers to go investigate. I think he’s brave to do so. There are a lot of nuts out there these days. I have an errand and tell Al I’ll be right back. When I return, Al is gone, and the guy in the car is moving. He’s heading my way slowly so I re-enter the building quickly and for the first time, am glad the doors are always locked. The car pulls into a spot near the building and the person emerges. I realize it is one of the employees! How embarrassing! It seems he wanted to chat with his wife on the cell phone and his car in the sun was just too hot so he moved to the shade. “Sorry” he says, “that I scared you.” I feel like such a scaredy cat. Al comes out a bit later and he’s chuckling about the whole thing. Seems he didn’t realize who it was either until he actually asked if there was something he could help with. Are we a paranoid bunch or what!
Later, I accepted another invitation to lunch. I decided not to turn down too many of these since there are less than five weeks left before the opportunities run out. It helps me to see familiar faces whenever I can. It gives me a sense of connectivity that is missing in my day-to-day work.
I rode the motorcycle over to the restaurant. I carry my riding jacket in with me. The host, who seats us, asks me if I’m from the south. I’m confused. He makes a comment about my jacket and today’s dry cool air. “Oh!” I say. I then inform him that it is a motorcycle riding jacket and since I paid a pretty penny for it, I’m not about to leave it on the bike. He looks a bit sheepish as he retreats.
I enjoy the stories going around the table. There are nine of us. Three will be finished with their current contract soon and then looking for work. Two have found work, two are still looking and one left before the lab closing and is employed nearby. There are jokes about looking for the personality counterparts in their new environments, and we all chuckle knowing of whom they are speaking. I admire their good nature, and the perseverance with which some pursue the job hunt. All agree that they now have great experience with the interview process. I enjoy the lunch and have to leave before everyone else, because I’m on a short leash these days.
Back at the office, I should be listening to the training CD’s and watching the training videos assigned, but I have no desire to do so. It has been quiet and now would be ideal to attend to this task. All I have managed to do is pull the packet forward and place it in plain sight as a reminder. I have yet to pop one of those CD’s into the drive. I know my attitude stinks and wonder how long it take to get over an emotional upset. Six weeks? Six months? I check the calendar and see that it has been nine weeks. I guess its six months then. I read once, that grief, for whatever reason, runs its course in six months to a year. I guess I should just accept it and let it run its course.
I take my afternoon break and head outside for another walk. As I round the parking lot, John pulls up in his vintage Corvette. He promised me a ride when he acquired it a few weeks back. “Hope in!” he says. You don’t have to ask this girl twice! He has the top down, and we take a ten-minute loop through the neighborhood. A little wind therapy and the thrill of feeling the pull of eight cylinders under the hood is just what the doctor ordered to pull me out of my funk!

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