So barring a last minute reprieve from Ms. Flaky McFlake at the Flakey Recruting Company, who dangled such a kick-ass dream job in front of but disappeared soon afterwards, it looks like I got a job. Got a job-offer yesterday. For a real job. Not a temp job, but a real job. Yeah, it's Temp to Perm, but the whole Temp to Perm thing is all the rage these days (stupid recession).
But by accepting it, it means everything, everything changes. It's in San Mateo. Which means I'll have to commute- the whole BART to MUNI to CalTrains thing. And I will be a commuter. I will be one of those people with those metallic coffee holders so they can drink on the train without spilling any of it. I will be one of those people who read the paper in the morning commute, then a book or some sort of magazine on the way back. I will be one of those people who can no longer meet people at a bar in SF at 6 to watch the basketball game because I will be somewhere commuting. I will be a full, official worker drone, spending a large part of my life doing nothing but going from work to home and home to work.
See, since I've lived in SF, I have always worked downtown. The longest commute I've had to deal with was never more than an hour, that is if MUNI didn't break down. I have always been a bus ride, a BART ride, or an N Judah ride from work. Or a quick, twenty minute bike ride. I have been able to meet friends for work downtown, go to the Y for a really long lunch, or leave early to sneak off and get drinks or doctor's appointments or what have you. I could get up really close to when I had to be at work, change really quickly and still make it to work on time because it was easy too. No more.
And like most commuters, I have a choice to make. I could either get up early to get to work early and get home at a reasonable hour or I could get some more sleep, but not get back until 7 or so. I do not like getting up early. I am not good at getting up early. I should not be allowed to get up early. It makes me do bad things, and should not be allowed anywhere near heavy machinery. But it's either that or be one of those people who can't actually make it to anything during a work week because I don't get back from work in enough time. No going to the gym. No yoga classes or after-work sports. No meeting friends for drinks.
To break it down another way, it's like I have a choice to make- get up early to get home early, but be so tired I don't have much energy to do much of anything else and have to go to bed early. Or get more rest so I can have energy to do things, but never have the time to do it.
Do commuters have lives outside of work?
But wait, there's another thing to think about, another way to add up the equation. I can get a car. I can be a car-driver. A friend is even willing to sell his beat up, but still cool sporty convertible car. No more bus to train and back again and I can cut down my commute from more than an hour to half an hour. So I can get some sleep and make it back into the City in time for things. But now I have to worry about things like traffic. Not to mention parking in the Mission. And all the expenses of owning a car. And my life will get that much more complicated and expensive. But still, a car! I've never owned a car. Hell, I drive a car maybe once or twice a year and that's if I'm lucky.
And why stop there. Since I'll have a car and be a commuter I will get a cell phone. Because if I have a car, a real job, and a commute, I need a cell-phone. That's how it is these days.
So just like that, with the acceptance of one job, everything changes. It's like Jiminy Cricket or the Fairy Godmother or Tinkerbell or whoever did what in Pinnochio, came down and, inches away from my 34th birthday, heard me wish upon a star, waved their little wand and made me an adult. A real-live 34 year old.
Do I really want to do this?
Get Me a Bucket
4 years ago