Happy Beginnings

Ten years ago, I was more or less jobless. I'd been out of school for a couple years (with a career-inspiring English Lit. degree) and hadn't held down any real job for long. I'd moved around quite a bit, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.

My previous gig was working for a telecommunications company in Chicago in their billing department. The company had decided to close that location, oddly announcing it about two years in advance (probably per some union stipulation), and the rats were fleeing the sinking ship. They hired a bunch of us as "term" employees to fill in until they finally shut the lights off. I stayed about a year.

My job was doing something with databases, little tiny databases, that held billing information, but I won't bore you with the details. I didn't know anything about them when I started, but I was slightly better at computers that the rest of the staff there so they handed me that job. I suppose I'm a fast learner, because it didn't take long for me to master the skills involved and do the job fairly easily.

It wasn't a bad place to work. There was sort of an "us vs. them" mentality between the term employees and the perms who stayed around, but it was tolerable. I met some nice people there, some that I've stayed in contact with over the years.

That's also where I met my future wife, who we'll call Penelope.

I left that job in September 1997 and moved to Missouri (where my parents had relocated while I was in college, several years back). Penelope stayed on. We didn't really have a plan. We were in love, that much was for sure, and neither one of us wanted to stay in the Chicago area, but with only one job between us (and temporary at best), our prospects were slim.

In Missouri, I worked part time for my Dad (retired from his chosen profession and enjoying a second career as a freelance handyman) doing odd jobs: painting houses, finishing basements, etc. He couldn't pay me much, but it was enough to make the car payment and a few other bills. I stayed in their basement while I looked for something else.

Meanwhile, Penelope was back in Chicago. I visited her a couple times in the fall. She drove out for Thanksgiving. I went back for Christmas. She came out for New Year's. By then, I knew we had to get our act together. I asked her to quit her job and move out, just throw chance and fate to the wind. It was crazy, we both knew, but we found her a little apartment close to my parent's house and she drove back to Chicago to give notice.

A week later I got a call from a contract agency who'd seen my resume online. They knew of a company who was looking for someone with database skills. I said, sure, I'd come in for an interview, leaving out the part that my database skills were negligible. I knew some key words and phrases that made me sound like I knew what I was doing.

Two interviews later, I was hired.* They were desperate. Qualifications included having a pulse and standing relatively upright. Still, though, I spent the first several weeks (which became the first several months) learning as much as I could to do the job I was now being paid to do. Like I said: I learn fast. Lucky thing, too.

Penelope moved out two weeks later. We now had one good job between us, and I was making enough money to pay both of our bills combined. They converted me from a contractor to full time in March and gave me a nice raise. Penelope and I got married in June. It seemed like a perfect beginning to our lives and certainly to my career prospects which had been bleak just months before.

Life was good, my job was good, and I was happy, until something happened.


* 10 years ago today.