6/13/2011 - like an out-of-town friend. . .

A summer intern began in my department today.  Stacy was bright-eyed, over-dressed, and full of excitement for all the things I now find rote and mundane.  During a monthly meeting I typically fight to stay awake for, I watched her pen squiggle furiously over three previously blank pages of her notebook.  Such engagement, such effort--I could probably learn a thing or two from her.

Later in the morning, I walked over to her cubicle and introduced myself.  She is a junior at UC Berkeley, living with her parents for the summer in Concord, one of the furthest BART stops from San Francisco.  She said that she walked up the escalator of the Montgomery BART station and couldn't believe that she would be heading to work in one of these buildings that stood before her.

Which had been exactly how I felt when I approached the office building of my first job in the City.  After a year of teaching and dating someone who worked a corporate office job in a skyscraper in the Financial District, I romanticized the idea of commuting by train, corporate meetings, and cubicles.  What could be better than to work in the heart of a city, bustling with energy, with cafés and delis abound on every corner?  And I still remember that first morning, waiting for the elevator in the lobby to take me to the 15th floor for my orientation, dressed in a brand new shirt and tie, dress shoes that cost 30 bucks but made me feel like a million. 

Of course, the luster of it all faded soon enough.  The train commute grew tedious, corporate meetings boring, and I racked up a significant credit card bill from eating out every day.  Though it was everything I had thought it would be, it wasn't everything I had thought I wanted, and I've spent the last six years, and likely the six after those, trying to figure that last part out.

This afternoon, I sat with Stacy and walked her through my day-to-day responsibilities, and again, she scribbled massive amounts of notes and asked questions that made her seem like she genuinely cared.  In return, I found myself genuinely caring and wanting to preserve her enthusiasm.  I told her about the great co-workers here, the shortcuts through the corporate intranet I had learned over the last three years, the good cheap eats around the corner.

She was like an out-of-town friend visiting for the summer.  I may usually find Chinatown congested and tacky, Fisherman's Wharf a tourist trap, and Union Square overpriced, but I remember how proud I felt when Sam and I drove a friend through those landmarks and more, all through the City, pointing out the things we see everyday with a fresh perspective.  What a great time, I had thought when Sam and I got back home, as though we had been on a mini-vacation in our own backyard. 

I spent the rest of my afternoon today feeling better about my job than I have in a long time.