Today is officially my last day at Unum. I walked in and found my desk covered in cupcakes, Reese Cup cake, dunkin munchkins, and homemade chocolate chip cookies. I got a card yesterday, have received countless emails and hugs, and the list goes on. Oh wait. And a hampster. Hamster? Hampster? Ya.
Not only that, but in the course of my ten months here, I had a birthday ambush with flowers, a cake, and a decorated cubicle (not to mention an incredible power point presentation), and had two incredible pop up presents that covered one entire side of my desk (one a pool party scene and one an amazing, spooky graveyard scene).
Anyways, it got me thinking... how many times have I heard people complain about awful co-workers or managers? I myself have had jobs where I've gotten into my car after a shift and cried. And so, I am blessed. Because although the past two years have been more of a roller coaster than I could've ever imagined, I have spectacular people in my life who pour out their love daily. And when all is said in done, that is what matters in life and that is all I'll ever need.
They're the brothers I never had and the friends I never thought I'd find living at home with Mom and Dad in good ol' Maine. I'll miss 'em.
Love you guys.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Life changers
A few months ago, I was taking a bus to Boston to celebrate my friend Ashley's birthday. I sat down, plugged in my head phones and pulled out a book. A few minutes later, I saw an elderly man struggling with his bags, struggling to breathe. He sat down next to me and tapped me on the shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Ma'am, are we stopping at South Station or Logan first."
"South Station."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, Sir."
Headphones back in.
"It's so nice to meet friendly people." Uh oh...
Headphones back out.
And so began my two hour conversation with one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. We'll call him Jack.
Jack is a disabled war veteran who has been screwed by the system. So, on little funding, he travels back and forth almost weekly for medical treatments at the VA hospital.
When Jack asked where I worked, I was terrified to tell him I worked for an insurance company. He looked at me accusingly as if I was part of the problem.
I reassured him that my heart was in the right place and I was a Spanish interpreter in the customer service center. My job was to make sure people DID have access to their benefits and that they understood exactly what needed to happen and what all their paperwork said. I, too, wished we had universal health care. Yes, I too loved Hillary. But alas... that didn't fix the current situation for this poor man.
He went on to tell me about fighting in the war, his broken family life, how he was trying to take care of himself and also his son and son's wife and child. I listened and nodded, wishing I could do something more.
I got into a passionate discussion with this man about doing work that means something and that makes someone else's life a little bit better than it was before. I told him about my dream to do something in child advocacy. That I was a total hippie in my heart and that all I wanted was for everyone to just GET ALONG and be friendly and kind. He smiled at me and said most people think he's crazy when he tries to talk. I told him most people just have a story they need to tell and not everyone wants to listen.
When we finished our bus ride, I helped him with his things and walked him off the bus. He looked at me and said "You give me hope, young lady. You're going to change the world."
And then we parted ways... and I got to thinking, how interesting that talking to strangers and trusting others has become so taboo. Maybe if we actually told stories/let others tell theirs we wouldn't spend thousands of dollars in therapy bills.
On my way home from Boston, I sat with another lovely person. A woman, maybe in her 40s, who told me about her trip to Boston and asked about mine. We somehow ended up talking about friendships and then relationships. She told me about her struggles with relationships and the demise of her first marriage. How she has a hard time standing up to others and being open with her feelings. I could feel my inner panic start to rise. She sounded a LOT like me. I hate confrontation and have a really hard time telling people when I'm upset and angry.
I told her about my then-relationship and how amazing it was... and she looked at me and said, "I'm so glad there are hopeless romantics left in the world. Always say how you feel, my dear. Show people you care and show them how to treat you."
I was shell-shocked and had no idea her advice would be so pertinent as the year went on. And I think I started to do precisely what she said and I think it's really working.
Ah, sigh. So that is why I talk to strangers. They give me perspective, hope, and an ability to see myself for who I am like others who have known me for a lifetime cannot. And if I just made someone else's trip a little easier by providing an understanding ear, then I'm a happy girl.
Thoughts?
"Yes?"
"Ma'am, are we stopping at South Station or Logan first."
"South Station."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, Sir."
Headphones back in.
"It's so nice to meet friendly people." Uh oh...
Headphones back out.
And so began my two hour conversation with one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. We'll call him Jack.
Jack is a disabled war veteran who has been screwed by the system. So, on little funding, he travels back and forth almost weekly for medical treatments at the VA hospital.
When Jack asked where I worked, I was terrified to tell him I worked for an insurance company. He looked at me accusingly as if I was part of the problem.
I reassured him that my heart was in the right place and I was a Spanish interpreter in the customer service center. My job was to make sure people DID have access to their benefits and that they understood exactly what needed to happen and what all their paperwork said. I, too, wished we had universal health care. Yes, I too loved Hillary. But alas... that didn't fix the current situation for this poor man.
He went on to tell me about fighting in the war, his broken family life, how he was trying to take care of himself and also his son and son's wife and child. I listened and nodded, wishing I could do something more.
I got into a passionate discussion with this man about doing work that means something and that makes someone else's life a little bit better than it was before. I told him about my dream to do something in child advocacy. That I was a total hippie in my heart and that all I wanted was for everyone to just GET ALONG and be friendly and kind. He smiled at me and said most people think he's crazy when he tries to talk. I told him most people just have a story they need to tell and not everyone wants to listen.
When we finished our bus ride, I helped him with his things and walked him off the bus. He looked at me and said "You give me hope, young lady. You're going to change the world."
And then we parted ways... and I got to thinking, how interesting that talking to strangers and trusting others has become so taboo. Maybe if we actually told stories/let others tell theirs we wouldn't spend thousands of dollars in therapy bills.
On my way home from Boston, I sat with another lovely person. A woman, maybe in her 40s, who told me about her trip to Boston and asked about mine. We somehow ended up talking about friendships and then relationships. She told me about her struggles with relationships and the demise of her first marriage. How she has a hard time standing up to others and being open with her feelings. I could feel my inner panic start to rise. She sounded a LOT like me. I hate confrontation and have a really hard time telling people when I'm upset and angry.
I told her about my then-relationship and how amazing it was... and she looked at me and said, "I'm so glad there are hopeless romantics left in the world. Always say how you feel, my dear. Show people you care and show them how to treat you."
I was shell-shocked and had no idea her advice would be so pertinent as the year went on. And I think I started to do precisely what she said and I think it's really working.
Ah, sigh. So that is why I talk to strangers. They give me perspective, hope, and an ability to see myself for who I am like others who have known me for a lifetime cannot. And if I just made someone else's trip a little easier by providing an understanding ear, then I'm a happy girl.
Thoughts?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Strangers on Public Modes of Transportation
Ok, so... the inspiration behind this blog has come from a series of hysterical/life-altering encounters I have experienced on public modes of transportation (planes, trains, and automobiles... remember that movie??) I'm not going to bombard you with all these tales at once, but I thought it'd be a good time to introduce story number one: Charlie.
Ah, Charlie. So during the summer of 2006 I was interning in NYC. Being the impoverished college student that I was (or the impoverished graduate that I AM) meant that living in the city was out of the question. I decided to stay with my bestest bud and her aunt in Jersey and bus it into work everyday. Now, being a friendly girl from Maine, I usually speak to everyone I see. I have no problems with strangers. I did learn, however, that these rules of friendliness do NOT apply in the Big Apple.
So one day, I get on the bus and sit down next to this man. I look directly ahead and say nothing, as I have been instructed to do by EVERYONE. Then it happens... I feel his eyes boring a hole into the side of my head. Finally he says, "Helen?" To which I reply, "No, I'm sorry." And the conversation goes...
"No, I thought your name was Helen. You know, like Helen of Troy?"
"Ya, right, the face that launced a thousand ships. Cute." I turn and look ahead. Face=red.
"What is your name?" Ohh of course... we couldn't just end there, could we? Nope.
"Mariah."
"OH, Maria?"
"Nope, MARIAH."
"Right, Maria."
"K, sure."
"Maria, can I read your palm please?"
Oh wow... let's see, what can I tell Charlie? I have a skin disorder where in fact my skin falls off or perhaps turns to skittles when touched? Hmm... might not work. I give him my hand.
"You have a long life ahead of you... you will get married to your boyfriend. You have a boyfriend, yes?"
"Uhhh. No." God I love how this guy operates.
"Ohh... can I call you sometime?"
"I don't have a phone." (Not even a lie.)
"Email?"
"Uhhh sure... here it is."
Why I didn't lie and give him a fake address I will never know. Off the bus we go.
Later that day, I get an email. Want to do lunch? Ohhh crap. I hate being polite. I turn to Martha, my co-worker, and ask her for advice.
"Sweetie, you're in NYC. Ignore the bastard."
Crap.
So I do.
Next day, I get on the bus, sit with some unassuming man who doesn't appear to want to chit chat. Fall asleep. Bus brakes and I hear, "MARIA! Wake up. I saved you a seat."
NO, BUT SERIOUSLY???? This happened.
"Uh Charlie, I'm sleeping? Slash trying to learn Portuguese?" (Also true. I'm a nerd. I had a self-teach book).
"Ohh... well, ok." He saunters off.
Get off the bus, heading through the subway. I hear Charlie yelling my name. My pace quickens. Finally, he grabs my arm.
"You didn't respond to my email!"
"Sorry, Charlie. So busy yesterday. You know how it is as an intern."
"Right. Lunch today?"
"Ya, um, dinner plans with the boss. I'm just that spectacular at what I do that they've decided to wine and dine me."
"Right. OK, well, um, I'll see you on the bus."
And that was the last time I spoke with Charlie. And the first time I learned that killing one with kindness=not the best policy. Not in the Big Apple, folks. Headphones on, gaze straight ahead. Watch your back.
Similar stories or adventures from others?
Ah, Charlie. So during the summer of 2006 I was interning in NYC. Being the impoverished college student that I was (or the impoverished graduate that I AM) meant that living in the city was out of the question. I decided to stay with my bestest bud and her aunt in Jersey and bus it into work everyday. Now, being a friendly girl from Maine, I usually speak to everyone I see. I have no problems with strangers. I did learn, however, that these rules of friendliness do NOT apply in the Big Apple.
So one day, I get on the bus and sit down next to this man. I look directly ahead and say nothing, as I have been instructed to do by EVERYONE. Then it happens... I feel his eyes boring a hole into the side of my head. Finally he says, "Helen?" To which I reply, "No, I'm sorry." And the conversation goes...
"No, I thought your name was Helen. You know, like Helen of Troy?"
"Ya, right, the face that launced a thousand ships. Cute." I turn and look ahead. Face=red.
"What is your name?" Ohh of course... we couldn't just end there, could we? Nope.
"Mariah."
"OH, Maria?"
"Nope, MARIAH."
"Right, Maria."
"K, sure."
"Maria, can I read your palm please?"
Oh wow... let's see, what can I tell Charlie? I have a skin disorder where in fact my skin falls off or perhaps turns to skittles when touched? Hmm... might not work. I give him my hand.
"You have a long life ahead of you... you will get married to your boyfriend. You have a boyfriend, yes?"
"Uhhh. No." God I love how this guy operates.
"Ohh... can I call you sometime?"
"I don't have a phone." (Not even a lie.)
"Email?"
"Uhhh sure... here it is."
Why I didn't lie and give him a fake address I will never know. Off the bus we go.
Later that day, I get an email. Want to do lunch? Ohhh crap. I hate being polite. I turn to Martha, my co-worker, and ask her for advice.
"Sweetie, you're in NYC. Ignore the bastard."
Crap.
So I do.
Next day, I get on the bus, sit with some unassuming man who doesn't appear to want to chit chat. Fall asleep. Bus brakes and I hear, "MARIA! Wake up. I saved you a seat."
NO, BUT SERIOUSLY???? This happened.
"Uh Charlie, I'm sleeping? Slash trying to learn Portuguese?" (Also true. I'm a nerd. I had a self-teach book).
"Ohh... well, ok." He saunters off.
Get off the bus, heading through the subway. I hear Charlie yelling my name. My pace quickens. Finally, he grabs my arm.
"You didn't respond to my email!"
"Sorry, Charlie. So busy yesterday. You know how it is as an intern."
"Right. Lunch today?"
"Ya, um, dinner plans with the boss. I'm just that spectacular at what I do that they've decided to wine and dine me."
"Right. OK, well, um, I'll see you on the bus."
And that was the last time I spoke with Charlie. And the first time I learned that killing one with kindness=not the best policy. Not in the Big Apple, folks. Headphones on, gaze straight ahead. Watch your back.
Similar stories or adventures from others?
Friday, October 24, 2008
My very first blog
Wow, so this is super exciting. I'm finally a blogster. I never wanted to seem like a follower but the thing is, I read so many blogs everyday that I love that I thought, why not??? Anyway, the theme behind this blog is the random, crazy, awkward happenings I experience everyday. That's not to say that I won't go off on a tangent from time to time... trust me I will. But I consider everything that happens to me in my life a growing experience and a chance to either connect with people or understand the world just a teeny bit better than I did before. Hopefully my ramblings will connect with you on some level as well.
Interesting fact. When you have a job ending in three days, it's extremely difficult to focus. No but really. I'm trying and I can't. Hence the blog. Which I've started at work. I'm moving to good old Beantown next Saturday to start my dream job (literally... well aside from those jobs that I'd also really love as a chocolate shop owner in the Alps or a tap dancer on Broadway). But anyways, it's time for new faces, new places, and new stories. I've been patient and waited for a year to finally feel like my life makes sense and has some semblance of order and VOILA! It happened within a week. (Such naivete... )
Here's a thought I'm going to leave you with as I end my intro blog: What does SOCIAL HIERARCHY means when it comes to high school life? Because as I run into kids from high school at the store, at the bars, and God only knows where else, I am reminded of the memorable moment I was first informed of said hierarchy and how it determines who we can speak with, be friends with, and date... and how said hierarchy no longer applies after high school. And therefore awkward encounters and propositions ensue...
Thoughts?
Interesting fact. When you have a job ending in three days, it's extremely difficult to focus. No but really. I'm trying and I can't. Hence the blog. Which I've started at work. I'm moving to good old Beantown next Saturday to start my dream job (literally... well aside from those jobs that I'd also really love as a chocolate shop owner in the Alps or a tap dancer on Broadway). But anyways, it's time for new faces, new places, and new stories. I've been patient and waited for a year to finally feel like my life makes sense and has some semblance of order and VOILA! It happened within a week. (Such naivete... )
Here's a thought I'm going to leave you with as I end my intro blog: What does SOCIAL HIERARCHY means when it comes to high school life? Because as I run into kids from high school at the store, at the bars, and God only knows where else, I am reminded of the memorable moment I was first informed of said hierarchy and how it determines who we can speak with, be friends with, and date... and how said hierarchy no longer applies after high school. And therefore awkward encounters and propositions ensue...
Thoughts?
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