There are times when you are so proud of someone you want to grab every person within arm’s reach and let them know how amazing and wonderful things are.
I got dropped off at therapy last week and knew I was heading into the dead zone for communication. The basement where I am
tortured rehabbed three times a week is not cell phone friendly. It’s taken some getting used to, the phone being silent for that hour and a half, only to light up like the 4th of July upon reentry. That day was no different. Except we’d been waiting on edge all week. We’d come to the point where it’s time to move on. We’d talked about it endlessly. We’d accepted that the pros of potentially uprooting our lives far outweighed the cons.
When you work somewhere for a long time you settle in. You know the inner workings of things and how they tick. You know all the gears and how they turn. You also know the wrenches that get stuck and need to be worked out. Twelve years put in. The service provided is an impressively long list. The people who appreciate him are also many in number. But the wrenches. The wrenches get stuck. He pulls them out. They get stuck again. Some are so gummed up in the works, there seems to be no hope. Regardless, cutting ties is hard. But maybe a new machine with different wrenches could offer a new perspective. But hell, that is some scary business!
So as I am coming up the elevator, and waiting for the emails and texts and word press notifications to start lighting up my phone and bring me back to civilization, I get two text messages.
The first is
They just called and offered me the job!
and the second:
Crap, you don’t have a signal to get this message!!!!!
I can attest that the leopard print wearing, walker wielding physical therapy cohorts of mine do not appreciate being surprised in such a manner as I may have surprised them.
But I don’t care. I am so proud of him.