An Anniversary

Two years ago today I started a new job—I was totally unqualified and still in shock that I had been hired. I wrote about my crazy interview here. Honestly, when I think about how that interview went, and knowing my now co-workers who were in there, I still can’t believe they hired me. I often wonder about the others they interviewed—did they vomit on the table? Or drop out of high school? I was that shocked when I got a phone call offering me the job only a few hours after my second interview—the one with the President of the organization, a former congressman. The one where I accidentally mentioned I didn’t vote for him when he ran for Governor—because I was only 14 at the time.

I was (and am still) immensely grateful that they hired me—for whatever they saw in me. It meant I could stop commuting 30 minutes each way. Old Highway 14, horrible two-lane interstate with cornfields on either side, allowed snow to whip across unhindered, creating a virtual blizzard every day, even when it wasn’t snowing. I hated that drive. I wasn’t too fond of working for a bi-weekly newspaper, covering mundane events of a small town where I didn’t even live. I was constantly out of ideas for stories. Most of the ones suggested to me were just local reprints of something published by our sister newspaper—the paper from the town where I did live.

I swore it would be my last time working in the newspaper world (although I’m pretty sure I said that after my previous newspaper job), but I was grateful for it at the time. That newspaper had taken me on as a temporary reporter, ending my seven-month unemployment—I hadn’t had a full-time job since graduating college. We were dipping into our savings, spending more than we were earning just to make our monthly payments. We lived in a basement cave and ate a whole lot of mac and cheese.

Those were good months, our first few of marriage, but I was grateful to be working. And even more grateful when I landed my current job—something I could actually begin to call a career.

It’s been a rocky two years. Like every job, there were days when I began to hate it, convinced I could never be happy here. But there are many more days when I feel productive, creative, and like I’m really contributing to the greater good. I do believe in my foundation’s mission. I want to see communities grow and thrive, businesses successful, and children prepared to learn. It’s good to know that I have a reason to get up every day—that I would be missed if I didn’t work here.