And I know that. I’ve not lived under a rock. But after running through the rain and making this bus by the skin of my teeth, he’ll have to forgive me for not recalling the best practices when it comes to bus etiquette. He doesn’t acknowledge the apologetic smile I give him as I tap my phone on the reader, so I can only assume his morning is going just about as well as mine. But today can only get better. Ithasto get better. I have too much riding on it.
I got on the bus at 8.13. This bus ride is forty-two minutes with traffic. It is super close, but I should just about make it with a couple of minutes to spare. I take refuge in the first emptyseat I find, and take a moment to breathe and re-centre myself. I skipped yoga (as I do every morning), but that doesn’t mean I can’t meditate on the bus. I take a deep breath, but my phone buzzes in my pocket before I can start.
Morning, sunshine. I’ve missed you.
Kimi’s message is followed by a whopping twenty-minute-long voice note.
‘Hey, bighead, I’ll try to keep this brief, but, honestly, I make no promises. The group chat went off last night and I know you won’t read back anything over forty messages, which. . . honestly, Mads, we really need to talk about. Anyway, I thought I’d check in and let you know you’re needed round Devi’s tonight– she finally closed on her flat and she wants to celebrate with one last wine night at her parents’ place. She’s supplying the wine, we’re ordering pizza and Raina’s gonna pick up some flowers and a card. Don’t even try to come at me with your whole “it’s a weeknight” thing– we won’t keep it too late and I can pick you up on my way. I haven’t been to yours in ages, actually, so it would be nice to pop in and say hi to your mum. Speaking of Auntie, is she going to. . .’
I zone out as I stare out of the window, making a mental note to listen properly before I see her later. Kimi, bless her, while one of my favourite people in the world, sure knows how to drag a simple point into five separate ones with additional backstory and side quests.
I text back.Is wine night straight after work?Her status jumps online the second it’s sent.
KIMI:Yeah, ASAP– why, you got plans?!
ME:The gym. I can meet you guys after?
KIMI:You weren’t gonna make it to the gym.
KIMI:Be honest with yourself.
She’s right and I know it, annoying as it is. The second I ran for the bus it was pretty much decided that my grand return to the gym could wait. That doesn’t, however, mean that Kimi has to be so loud about it. Especially so early in the morning.
ME:You are an enemy of progress.
KIMI:You can progress tomorrow when it’s not wine night x
I heart the message. She knows I’ll be there as much as I know I’ll be there. One of my best friends just bought her first home; I wouldn’t miss that for the world. But back to now. Deep breath. I pull out my journal and set my intentions for the day.
1. Apologise to Mum for not saying bye– throw in some kisses for good measure.
2. Don’t shy away from the facts with Pippa. I have worked hard. I have proof. I deserve a promotion.
3. Drink two litres of water (at least 1.5 while at work).
4.Go to the gym after work (you have the membership! Use it!).Wine night with the girls.
5. Plan revenge on Anton. Make it good. Make it super evil.
Nudge 2
The Reintroduction
Everyone told me that finding a job straight after graduating would be hard. They kept advising me to ‘pace myself’ and ‘not to worry too much’ and I nodded along and agreed to their faces. I saw all the stats and I heard about the state of the job market again and again. I also, however, secretly believed that I would be the exception.
That delusion made the shame and sadness I felt when I became part of the statistic absolutely unbearable. I cried and applied to everything I was even remotely suited for, only to be met with toneless, standard rejection emails.
Unfortunately, we have decided not to move forward with your application. . .
We have chosen a candidate whose qualifications more closely align with. . .
We have received a significant number of applications from qualified candidates and we regret to inform you that. . .
It went on for months. I was never experienced enough or, in most cases, even good enough for a reply. I watched my friends slide into their degree-determined grad roles and tried not to resent them as they vented about their hard workdays, but it got dark after a while. So devastatingly hopeless that I even considered going back and doing a masters.
I needed a break. An escape. I threw my energy into literally anything else I could get my hands on, which just so happened to be my dad’s fiftieth birthday party. At the end of the night, as everyone danced and ate from the incredible buffet I’d organised from four different caterers, it was actually Anton who suggested that organising parties might just be my calling. So, I refocused my search to anything to do with events.
Eventually, along came a beacon of hope, offering rudimentary pay in a shiny personal assistant role to the head of events and project management of Abbingtorn Accessories. I applied in a rush on the closing date and got invited to an interview the very next day.
