I still remember what the office looked like the first time I walked in for an interview. Twenty-two and clueless and lucky.
I had an engagement ring on my finger, a fresh college degree, and a lingering senior year depression. The first role I applied for I didn’t get, but they called me back for another one. I started on a Friday, two days after the offer, and now it’s ten years later.
Ten years later and I get up to help my baby fall asleep and field a text from my boss congratulating me on the decade, promising to celebrate when I return.
There are few relationships in my life are ten years long and now this workplace is one of them. For better or worse, it’s been one of the greatest educations of my life. I have made friends I’ll try to keep forever. I have made mistakes that keep me up at night. But hopefully I’ve done some good too, these last ten years. I have tried to do some good.
This job has been a backdrop to my life — a marriage, a divorce, new apartments, new hobbies, new friends, writing projects, professional certifications, professional groups, volleyball groups, the pandemic, moving home, working remotely, amazing years, heartbreaking years, an adoption journey …
As far as what I might’ve imagined this milestone would look like, this one passes quietly. Part of me wishes I could spend it drinking whiskey in the old office with my friend who started the same week as me and shares this anniversary. We had our share of late nights clinking glasses of bourbon.
But if I once wanted balloons and fanfare, it pales in comparison to having a chance at what I really wanted. She’s finally asleep in the next room.
With Love,
Natalie