The night before my first day AT THE JOB I MOVED TO SF FOR, I moved into my sublease, a little pinterest world, decorated by an artist who was spending the summer in Belgium with her boyfriend. I didn’t even have time to unpack. I brought my clothes for the first day into the shower (which I could not get to work which lead to a frantic call to Mom) to steam them and then went to sleep, my route for the next day programmed into my iPhone and my alarm clock set extra early so I could not miss the trolley that would take me to my first day at my new job.
You know what they say about good intentions, right?
It didn’t matter that I woke early. I still ran to the trolley, missed it, and had to wait the “seven minutes” (this is a lie; it takes longer than that) for the next one. I hopped on, paid my singles (has to be singles, here) and sat next to a dog. For real.
Here is the thing: trolleys? They don’t move fast. In fact, when they move fast they automatically disconnect from the line. When I lived in that sublease there was one trolley driver who, I am not kidding, every single day, disconnected at least twice from one stop to the next.
I watched the clock on my phone nervously. Then I made a bold (dumb?) move. I jumped out one stop early and ran and ran. Yes, ran. Several blocks, in fact, so I would not be late to my first day at this new job. If you know, or if you have been reading my blog, you know I am a bit of a perfectionist. I still have dreams from HIGH SCHOOL where I forget my homework. Being late on the first day of a new job? Definitely at the top of my my most mortifying moments.
So I ran. I was sweating. I hit the elevator button a million times and by the time I reached my floor, my training class was already somewhere else. (Insert rising mortification.) Someone had to take me to them. It was a room filled with about twenty guys and one girl who looked at me with desperation in her eyes, as if I was her holy grail. (Let’s be honest, us girls have got to stick together and Lis–that’s right; it was Lis–did not want to be in a class full of guys for two weeks).
I realized with my sweaty face, my hair ruined, that I had two choices. I could sink to the floor in mortification or better yet slip out the door never to be seen again. I could call my parents and cry. Or I could do this: I could walk to my empty seat, apologize, laugh it off, and explain I’ve only been in the city for a week and make my morning adventure funny. Oh, look at that funny girl from Chicago with that funny accent. She is a bit sweaty but hahaha! I could meet Lis’ eye across the room and smile. I could get my work face on and I could do it.
Here is one more truth about adventures: there will be moments where life does not go anywhere near to plan. There will be moments of extreme mortification. But you always have the choice whether to choose mortification or choose adventure. In my life, I’ve done both. But that first day of work, I chose adventure and have not looked back.