Traffic was disappointingly light on the way back from lunch, and I found myself back in the parking lot. I turned the car off, was still for a moment, then stepped outside.
I don’t want to be here. I looked at my feet, watching the motion of the ground as I walked toward the building. A scuff mark on my shoes. Cracks in the asphalt too. Some nice cars, some old cars–parked next to each other. The old ones were mostly dirty, and I realized that I wasn’t quite ready to go back inside yet.
I noticed a siren in the distance. Faint, loud, faint again. It occured to me that someone was probably having an emergency at that moment. A fire, a crime, a sickness.
In the past months, I’d almost forgotten about things like fire and crime.
The siren was gone, but my attention was now keen and cast outward. It was then that I noticed the perfect weather. It was blue and brisk. I could hear ducks and the wind. A leaf scattered on the asphalt very close to my shoes.
I felt peaceful and a tinge sad.
Eventually, I turned back to the building and started to walk again. Inside that building was a very small place. Within an hour, it would be my entire world again. My badge let me back inside.
If you enjoy reading this blog, why not tip the author?
10 responses so far ↓
1 Michelle Malay Carter // Nov 2, 2007 at 7:37 am
Chuck,
This makes me sad. It’s Friday! I wish you had saved this one for Monday. Friday prose should be about your walk from the building to your car at the end of the day.
Michelle
2 Naomi Dunford // Nov 2, 2007 at 8:49 am
Hi Chuck,
I can relate to that one. I loved “traffic was disappointingly light.” I remember when I was working in Toronto and end up on a streetcar that was basically an express. I remember mourning the loss of the extra ten minutes in my commute.
Not a good sign.
3 Chuck Westbrook // Nov 2, 2007 at 9:38 am
@Michelle– Perhaps a good point. Sorry to bring you down.
@Naomi– I’ll always remember that moment because it was so refreshing and brought a sense of perspective back to me after I’d done something as silly as wishing I were stuck in traffic.
4 Ryan Paugh // Nov 2, 2007 at 1:21 pm
Nice prose Chuck.
Funny though, I bet this is what death is like.
On a lighter note, have a great weekend!
5 Jason // Nov 2, 2007 at 1:28 pm
One day I’ll be able to dwell on the idea that I don’t want to go back to work.
As soon as I get a job.
6 Rachel // Nov 3, 2007 at 9:51 pm
This is why I am so grateful I found HR. I know not many others feel this way about the profession but for the past year I have avoided the knot in the stomach “please don’t make me go back” feeling. I hope I never have that feeling again.
7 Thomas W // Nov 5, 2007 at 8:48 pm
Makes you wonder….. Those brave men and women in Iraq and other hostel areas of the world get that feeling of I Don’t Want To Be Here. They just can’t do to much about it. When I was in the Military I learned about this Blog, and I introduced it to several officers and enlisted members. They seemed to connect to it very well… makes you wonder again! I experienced that feeling while I was in the Military, and I didn’t go to Iraq…
8 Chuck Westbrook // Nov 5, 2007 at 11:49 pm
@Ryan– Thanks, and that’s an interesting thought about death. Drop me a note to elaborate?
@Jason– Here’s hoping you’ll find a job that you mostly like. Best of both worlds.
@Rachel– A success story. That makes me happy to hear.
@Thomas– I admit, I hadn’t thought much about the application to military personnel, but I imagine it can be incredibly tough. Thanks for bringing that perspective to the table.
9 Lance // Dec 13, 2007 at 12:01 pm
I know that feeling. Here’s one I wrote a couple of years ago:
a study in contrast
yellow autumn leaves waving
in the indian summer breeze
outside my office window.
I can see their reflection
against the blue Windows desktop
as I squint at the computer monitor.
yellow on blue
living on virtual
organic on digital
beauty for the joy of beauty
carefree and laughing
as if
waving through the window
teasing “come out and play!”
just for a moment I turn and look
wistfully thinking
“I wish I could.”
and sighing, turn back to work.
10 Amanda Leigh // Feb 8, 2008 at 4:14 pm
Great prose. We often get caught up in talking about the more “concrete” aspects of working, and forget about the simple feelings we have about going (or not going) to work. I really enjoyed this.
Leave a Comment