Quiet desperation

When I got out of the Army, I worked for a year at Burroughs Corp. before returning to school, and that's the closest I've come to the dismal work/life environment that's the backdrop to Revolutionary Road. It was a year of much learning. I befriended some older employees who worked in PR, English majors who wrote company propaganda, each a frustrated novelist, each a heavy drinker (as I was), and they were great models of what not to be, an inspiration to return to school and do whatever it took to escape the corporate world. I succeeded.

One of my memories of that period is about my car. I drove a 5 or 6 year old car, a Ford, in pretty bad shape. I came to work early because I'm a morning person and got more done when no one was in the office. However, I also was on the clock and as often as not would forget to punch in when I was supposed to, which always created a hassle. I also parked up front near the entrance in the then pretty empty parking lot -- until I was forbidden to! Burroughs Corp was ashamed of my car, and I was ordered to park in the back corner of the lot. Hell of a deal.

On my last week there, an emergency came up on a day my boss was home sick. I took over (no one noticed at the time) and ended up solving a crisis. My boss' boss was so impressed he wanted to promote me onto his staff on the spot until he learned I was leaving. He told me to look him up after I graduated. Of course, I never did. My PR drinking buddies resolved that issue for me long ago.

So although I'm not as rich as I might have been otherwise, I've lived a great working life in that I've been my own boss most of the time. Much of my life revolved around project deadlines, giving me considerable flexibility (perfect for the drinking life, too). My Social Security isn't worth much as a result but what the hell, I wouldn't trade up to have joined the ranks of those in quiet desperation. I consider myself blessed, as a matter of fact.