“Let’s just go to Wal-Mart.” I could say that it all started innocently enough, but my father would assert that there is no innocence in admitting to shopping at Wal-Mart. The problem was not wholly my choice of retail establishments, but also the timing: back-to-school shopping was in full, last minute swing and we were to be right in the thick of it. I think back to school shopping might even be worse than Christmas shopping. At Christmas, the items you are buying are at least interesting. There is nothing sexy about number two pencils. Then there are the crowds, and there’s no contest there, Christmas crowds are bigger. However, the crowds for back to school shopping at Wal-Mart were fairly big, and they were concentrated in one place: two isles of back to school supplies. Two isles of shoulder to shoulder humanity fighting over the two pairs of blunt nose safety scissors left on the shelf. Shangri-La it was not.

I do like work, as I’ve alluded to before. Sometimes I can get too much of a good thing, which I’ve also alluded to before. This week was no different.

I’m not even exactly sure what I mean by that just yet. I’m kind of writing by the seat of my pants. Actually, I’m not … no, on second thought that’s more than you needed to know. I was just sitting here thinking about work (I’m writing this on Friday night) and what its like to finish off the week. No, its more than that. I’m thinking about what it’s like to go to work five days a week, and what keeps me going back. I could say all of the proper family man things like: “I work because I have responsibilities at home” … and so on. That is a good reason, but not necessarily the one I was thinking of. Hell, my wife makes more that I do. I’ve never seen myself as, nor do I think others see me as, a man’s man a la 1950 (THANK GOD). I go to work because I like to go to work. In general, I like my job. It may not always seem like it, especially lately. I’ve been kind of run down by this thing that seems like a cold without quite being a cold, so I’ve looked and felt kind of disheveled. Anyway, illness or not, I can’t imagine making through five days a week if I weren’t working for myself.

The last month or so I’ve been surrounded. People around me are suggesting that I should seek some small opportunity for myself in the part-time, work from home, start your own business arena. It is a subject that comes up every so often, and it has been particularly furious recently. The trouble is, it does sound appealing. In my fantasies, I see myself in some idyllic country setting, the only connection to the world being my high-speed connection to the internet, working from home and making a city living in a rural setting. Here’s the trouble: I don’t believe what everyone is selling – the idea that I have something that people are willing to buy. The media is full of stories about people that believed in themselves and in their idea, and through shear force of will brought their dreams to fruition. So where does that leave me? Here’s another problem: people keep telling me what wonderful work I do. Comments like, “you missed your calling John”, are driving me crazy. Why is it so preposterous to assume that I’ve found my calling precisely. The work that I do I do well, and like all good coworkers, I think I make my cohorts at work better. Just because I fill my niche well … does that mean that I’m destined for better? What’s better? I like my job. I think I do my job well. I love my family. I have time every day to be the first one in our small family to see my daughter’s smiling face just as she is about to be sprung from school. I have time to be the one to spend quality time with her, one on one, as we wind down from another day, and make the mundane chores of everyday life the glue in our bond as father and daughter. I have the time to be patient, I have the time to express my love, and I have the time to receive it in return. Just what is wrong with that? I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately. Am I trying to convince myself of something?

It’s two hours until quitting time. Do you know where your clock is?
Yes.

Did I mention where I’ve found the time to write this? Well, it’s 4:05 pm, and I’m sitting in a doctor’s office. I’m sitting here waiting to see if I’ll have a reaction to my allergy shots. I can be a little uptight about some things, and having a reaction to medication is one of those things. So, just imagine what it does when the nurses tell me to wait around 20 minutes to wait and see if I’ll have a reaction. Let’s just say that I need some distraction. If I think about it long enough, I can convince myself that I’m having some kind of reaction – and I can be creative. Writing these entries has served to meet this need. At the same time, a crowded doctor’s waiting room is not exactly the best place to unleash the creative juices. I’m dry enough as it is. Just what is an aspiring hypochondriac and talentless hack to do?

Ten minutes down, Ten to go.
I’m trying to thing of something interesting to say, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe I’ll try a game.

I’m toying with my options since the announcement that I’m about to be charged for the space I use for this web site. Alas, nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s free. In my research I’ve discovered an intriguing possibility, one that I may pursue regardless if I keep my site here or not: registering my own domain name. Maybe someday you’ll be ignoring these entries at www.johnkauffman.net!

“Do you miss college?” The question came out of nowhere. I was at work, and out of the blue one of my coworkers popped the question on me while I was assisting with a computer problem. Do I miss college? “Yeah, I miss college; but I don’t miss the lectures”, I answered. I’m laying in bed, the morning after, and I remember the question. Do I miss college? Yeah, I really do. My college years were a turning point in my life. It was where I discovered I had some value as a person. It was where I discovered I CAN . It was where I discovered that someone else (other than family) saw something desirable in me. It was where my wife and I found a spark, and where the ensuing fire took hold. Do I miss college? Yeah, I really do, but would I go back? No. There’s too much that I’ve discovered since that I would have to give up. So no, I wouldn’t go back.

I’m holding an empty water bottle in my hands. The only difference between this bottle and the bottle that was sitting on my desk is that the one on my desk was not empty, not quite anyway. About two mouthfuls of water and five minutes separate the two. For the last two hours, I’ve been looking at the mostly empty bottle of water. I’ve been at work and I’ve been thirsty, but I’ve been thinking about a commute home and the possible need to wash down some headache relief somewhere between “Point A” and “Point B”, so the bottle has sat there unfinished despite my thirst. Just before deciding to leave for the day I decided to throw caution to the wind and finish off the water. I resolve to keep the bottle due to Beth’s affinity for drinking things out of bottles and my desire to recycle. I was putting the bottle in my bag when I notice another bottle already inside. The only difference between the bottle in my hand and the bottle in my bag is that one is full. It was just that kind of day.

I was angry. I was working on my second case of the morning and things were not going well. But I don’t want to talk about that. Lets just say that it was about as frustrated as I’ve been on the job. What I want to talk about is my coworkers. Today was further proof that the folks I work with are a special bunch. Any time I’ve been down about work or down on myself about work, my co-corkers have stepped right in (without solicitation I might add) and made things better. Today this was true of both my DOR cohort and the attorney we work with. I can’t imagine liking a group of people more.

Focusing on the negative.
Nah.

There is a guy at my office that has been given the opportunity to have his own office. To this point in his career, he has almost exclusively shared an office with someone. He has confided that he thinks he may prefer sharing an office to working solo. This isn’t just talk. He’s been offered his own office on several occasions and every time he has turned it down. Now, everyone in his office is getting a private office (well, almost everyone). Now there is little choice. He is excited about the new opportunity, but he will miss the camaraderie of sharing.
This is my story.