I’ve dreamed of being a professional full time writer since I was about 7 or 8 when I saw the 1994 version of Little Women starring Winona Rider. (That movie quite genuinely changed and shaped so much of who I am.) (I still haven’t watched the new BBC mini series.) (I’ve heard it’s good.)
Other fictional and real life depictions of it have made he hunger dearly for that. It’s still a big someday for me, but I seriously long for the kind of mid day lounging with a laptop and big cup of tea that I assume my life will be when I can stop grinding at a 9 to 5 and magically turn into Norah Ephron or whatever.
It’s a fantasy largely, and one that I’m starting to make moves to make a reality but is a long way off.
So instead, I have a day job. One that I’m quite good at, and like a quite a bit, though I often say, “Oh we don’t have to talk about work, my work is boring to talk about.”
It is by the way, especially compared to my history in retail costumer service where there were people flowing in and out all the time, and fun stories and conversations, and I was in the city and young, and drunk a lot more.
There’s just not a lot to say about what I do now if you’re not also in the field. I’m an analyst and expediter for a mid size hardware company in suburban New Jersey. My main focus is inventory management and import administration.
On a day to day basis, I email people in China for shipdates, and move through no less than three spreadsheets containing stock status and determine when and if shipments need to be moved, orders need to be placed and then I put those recommendations on YET ANOTHER spreadsheet, and other people react to it.
The thing is…I like this work. Again, I’m pretty good at it, I feel a huge sense of accomplishment when I get something done, the pay’s good, and I think I’ve finally found a company that doesn’t make me feel like no one appreciates my skill set.
All that rocks.
But please God, don’t make me talk about my work socially. I’ll talk about writing, or art, or books, or movies, or TV, or music or hell even politics, (I also hate discussing politics except with people I know and trust, even if I disagree with them.) but dear lord don’t ask me to explain what my job is to you at a party, or on a date. It’s so so boring and it’s such a tiny part of who I am. I’ll tell you about my siblings, and friends, and Disney World, and my fantasy of turning into the lady version of Kevin Smith without the weed or movie making. (Just the part where he goes around talking to people about nerd shit on stage.)
Just not my day job please, anything but my day job.