On Wednesday I was heading up to my gentleman friend’s house in northern Toronto. It was rush hour, and the office types were leaving the cool comfort of their air conditioned jobs and heading home. One girl sat down in front of me, dialed her BlackBerry, and began to cry.
She was having a miserable day at a miserable job that made her, well, miserable. Her manager was torturing her. She didn’t have clear instruction on what expectations she was supposed to meet. From the sounds of the conversation, she lacked leadership and was depserate.
Desperate.
Who hasn’t been there? Working in a job we hate, one that makes us unhappy sometimes to the point of sick, and yet trapped because we are afraid to take the leap to something else.
As I listened to her, I thought “There but for the grace of God go I.” My life without corporate employment hasn’t been easy. Of course, it was also plagued with the kind of marital strife that puts one in a shelter, and that certainly didn’t help. But regardless of these circumstances, and regardless of the nervousness that goes with striking out on your own, I could never imagine being once again trapped in corporate whoredom, listening to some overpaid MBA prattle on about things that don’t even matter.
Whoever that girl was on the bus, I hope she finds her path.