Today is my six month anniversary at The Agency That Never Shuts Up. The time has flown by. I am grateful every single day for stumbling into this job. Okay, maybe I'm not so grateful when clients are hassling me about why they can't get a hotel in New York this weekend, or whining about no upgrades being available, but I still like the office environment very much.
Selling travel is good for me, actually. I'm not naturally very interested in politics, economics, or international commerce. Having to stay on top of the availability and advisability of travel is my primary motive for keeping up with the news. Otherwise, I'd be inclined to ignore everything but the funny pages and the entertainment section of the newspaper.
It also forces me to interact with a variety of people I might normally be too shy to speak to, which is no bad thing. I sit at the very front and I generally take all the walk-ins. Last week a guy came in who was heavily tattooed, fiercely bearded, dressed like a biker, and frankly intimidating. He looked like his pals called him Gator. I would rather have not had to deal with him but that was a momentary weakness; I sternly reminded myself that I have tattoos, and I once shaved my head, and intimidated people without even opening my mouth, and I launched into my normal helpful routine. He wanted to go whitewater rafting in Costa Rica. A perfectly ordinary travel client who will bring my agency a nice chunk of money. I am glad I have to make myself get over myself. I meet far more interesting people this way.
I seem to attract the little old men these days who want to tell me their life story, which I do not want to hear under most circumstances and particularly not when I have a backlog of bookings to complete for impatient business travelers. They sit on the sofa next to my desk and drone on about why they're going to Des Moines, and how difficult it will be for their son to pick them up, and what the doctor last said about their medication. I cannot tell them to go away. I have far too much respect for their age. I nod, and smile, and act faintly distracted because I am, in fact, faintly distracted, and eventually they finish their stories and wander off. The reason they love me is I remember that they're going to Des Moines and their son had trouble getting the time off work to pick them up, etc., when they call again. I may alway lose at Trivial Pursuit, but that's only because it doesn't have a client trivia section. I remember details really well when they're associated with an actual person. I lose details when they're just random data. I think we can all predict what kind of little old lady I'm going to be.
Anyway, I'm glad I have this job. No matter how long I hold it, and I hope that'll be a long time, I'll always remember being happy and comfortable at work is possible. I think I can now insist on it, in fact, instead of settling for less. I've gone through a lot of grim jobs over the last 20 years, always striving to improve my situation with each new position, though sometimes afraid to chuck it in when it got really bad. I've gotten braver each time, and been rewarded with more of what I wanted each time. It's only ever backfired when I've deluded myself into thinking I could make a wrong job right by putting up with whatever made me desperately unhappy.
From here on out, I plan to be happy. You'll just have to put up with the occasional joyous odes to job satisfaction.
