I attended an all-day seminar today on new ways of thinking innovatively in the workplace. I had been looking forward to this day ever since my boss signed me up, though in full disclosure, it's not because I'm particularly interested in this topic. I think a woman I overheard while grabbing our free continental breakfast said it best. She nudged a co-worker standing next to her and said, "Anything to get out of the office, huh?" I wanted to nudge her back and say, "Girl, you don't even know!" It felt like a day off. Almost.
The seminar did not begin until nine, so I was able to wake up later this morning and still make it to the gym. Kevin made some snide remark when he saw me spacing out on a bench shortly after seven, something about how I finally managed to show up; where's the dedication? To my credit, I still got a full, vigorous workout and already, I'm beginning to feel sore. So there.
The seminar was held at the Carnelian Room on the waterfront, right behind the Ferry Building. It was a beautiful venue, with old school charm and panoramic windows overlooking the bay. I rode there on my bike from the gym, saw my office building as I whizzed by, and coasted down a street I had never biked on before. So already, my day was filling with excitement--a new route! It was more thrilling than it ought to be.
But so often, I am jealous of friends whose jobs allow (or more accurately, force) them to travel, to see walls different than the four I see every day in my office building. Eddie goes all over the country sometimes. Kevin spent two weeks in Hong Kong last year, and his partner joined him for half of it, creating an ad hoc vacation of sorts. Even Sam finds himself downtown one day, in the Castro another, and by Ocean Beach the next. He used to send me pictures of where he eats lunch:
Meanwhile, my lunchtime views consistently look like this:
So obviously, I am quite envious, of the sight of the ocean, of the cross-country and international trips, of being anywhere other than where I am. Day after day. Because it's really, really true what people say: the grass looks so much greener when you don't personally work in it. I'm sure it's tough traveling for weeks on end, away from family, or so often that it's hard to tell what time zone the jet-lag is based on.
But for me today, being able to sit in a different chair, surrounded by different people, doing something completely different than what I do on most work days, it felt like I was traveling for work, and it was every bit as awesome as I always imagined it would be. In this experience, at least, the grass really was greener.
Even the seminar itself, led by an energetic and witty instructor named Iris, was tremendously informative, enlightening, and fun. Her main thesis argued that facts will be forgotten, but people remember stories.
And to prove it, she told us several throughout the day, most of which I still remember. One in particular resonated. When her daughter was growing up, she had a period where she wanted to hear the Heidi story at bedtime every night for weeks. Iris couldn't figure out how her daughter hadn't grown bored with it until one night, she observed that her daughter's eyes would get misty in preparation a few pages before Heidi actually got sick. And later, when the story finds its happy ending, when Heidi walks without her wheelchair, her daughter had already been sitting up on her knees and smiling several pages prior. Iris, a cognitive psychologist, realized that the repetition of this story had given her daughter a gift: the feeling of seeing into the future. She's heard it so many times that she already knew what was going to happen, and that knowledge was comfortable, a reassurance that all is not unknown. As certain as Heidi's health would fail, Heidi would also get better. And wouldn't we all want to have that ability, to know what is to happen in a book, a movie, and emotionally prepare ourselves for it, to see the future? More importantly, wouldn't we want to know what is to happen in a book we haven't read, in our day-to-day jobs, in life?
Her story this afternoon gave me a renewed energy for this blog. How, I'll get into tomorrow.
But in the meantime, this was my lunchtime view today. I loved every bit of it, from the scope of the bridge to the smell of the bay. I learned more than I expected to, met and had lunch with nice people, and sat outside for a few minutes during break just letting the sun warm my face. It was a great day.
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