The Job

It happened so fast. I arrived to San Francisco on Sunday. On Monday I had an email from a former co-worker and good friend.

“Would you be interested in working contract work back at (name of company that laid me off last year)? Call me.”

Hey, it’s Lori. I’d love to do some work for you. What ‘cha got?

“Well, it’s only 20 hours a week. Through the end of the year. You’d be helping out with some of the major conferences coming up – writing and editing show programs, contacting speakers, logistics, etc.”

I thought for a moment. Twenty hours a week was certainly more than the zero hours a week I was currently working. I’d be working with people I really, really like and respect. And, it would give me time to continue searching for a “real” job – whatever that might be.

Sure, I’d love to. Thanks.

“Well, there’s one thing. Can you start right away?”

I thought again. I had been looking forward to easing my way back into my life in San Francisco. Catching up with friends, doing lunch, morning jogs by the Golden Gate Bridge. Then again, I’ve never eased my way into anything. Why start now?

I’ve been working for two weeks. Somehow the twenty hours a week morphed into forty. It’s been great.