This morning I had to trip my usual trip into London. As I sipped coffee in my bathrobe, looking out the study window, I saw a flock of seagulls descend in the hazy morning light, parting the fog and landing in the plowed field outside to investigate the leavings of any potential meals. The fog was one thing, the temperature was another-Autumn is on the way, and it will be here soon. My garden of flowers is slowly dying, and I am letting it-I don't see much point in toiling over something that will be gone in a few weeks' time. Each morning the car is covered with a heavy layer of moisture, and this morning I had to turn the car heater on. I know it will burn off later today, in that 'do I take a sweater or don't I?' time of year, but right now I know-Autumn is coming.

The kids have gone back to school as well. There are the usual throngs of kids holding their Mums' hands, dressed in a pleated gray skirt and short jaunty tie. I remember what it was like to go back to school, that smell of pencil erasers and sawdust, the sound of chairs scraping the floor and the hubbub of kids filing through the hallways. Autumn is a season I can get behind, to me it rings bells of learning something new, of being part of a larger group, of beginning.

Yesterday my manager called me. Helen, he told me, I am taking off on leave on Thursday, instead of two weeks from now. I'm going away and I won't be back until the first week of October. You won't be able to be interviewed for the senior position until I get back, so sorry about that. You're in charge of everything, not just your project, and oh by the way I've taken on a few more projects that you need to manage as well while I'm away.

Oh good. Because I'm not already working over 12 hours a day, or anything like that. I totally have time to take on any pet projects you may have, and I would just love to take on more dealing with my extra £8 a month I've been rewarded with! I can handle my own project (and I relish doing so while he's away), but taking on anything more is just impossible. I simply don't have the bandwidth.

As a cue, my senior manager has taken to calling me several times a day to check on things, to set up discussions. Sometimes he calls me just to tell me that he tried to get a hold of my manager, he couldn't reach him, do you know where he is, Helen? To which I usually tell him that I'm not his secretary, I have no idea where he is, why doesn't he leave him a message and maybe he'll hear back?

Helen, my manager said on the phone yesterday, Don't let them break you. They are going to try. Don't let them tear you down, girl.

I look out the window of the rocking train. They won't tear me down. I've passed that stage of my life, my job is not who I am, but it is something that I want to do, and I want to do it well. The mist on the fields is burning off in the morning sun, the sky tinged with jet streams from airliners flying overhead. I'm sat in First Class as my PC was dead (and First Class has power sockets, while cattle class get punished with dead PCs. At least they're not throwing us the hard tack and swill.) and I had minutes of meetings to address, slides to create, action points to close and mails to read. I have several hundred unread emails, and I seem to be making no progress on them whatsoever. I'm in a carriage loaded with businessmen, some of them in shiny suits that make me want to tell them that the shiny suit look is over, that naugahyde is out, too many naugas had to die.

I've only just come back from holiday and already I'm exhausted. My team are exhausted. We have shifts running 24 hours a day, 7 days a week just to get things going as fast as possible. Some of my team members have relationships falling apart. There has been more than one nervous breakdown. Things were supposed to get easier, only it seems like the workload has tripled from an already crippling pace. I think back to all of the hours we slept in Egypt and wish I could sleep all those hours all over again.

So here I am, armed with my briefcase and my projector. As an added bonus, I have yet another baby present for yet another baby that has been born to yet another project manager on my project. I'm old hat at this baby present business now, I have it down to an art form. It seems my project is good for many things-it's good for careers. It's good for stress. It's good for fucking everyone but me getting pregnant.

I watch the scenery out the window and think about Fall, and I think about the feel of iron-tasting monkey bars under my hands. I feel the light Lucite of lunch trays in my hands, holding food that I don't remember eating but maybe that's for the best anyway. I remember the saliva-gathering taste of biting a slender number 2 pencil between my teeth, and I recall the feel of opening that cardboard pencil box, whose flimsy cardboard hinge would inevitably break.

It's Fall and sooner or later we all go back to school, only sometimes we go back to school to learn just what it is we are made of.

As long as its not naughahyde, I'll be fine.

-H.

PS-On my sidebar I've got a link to donate to the ASPCA for Hurricane Katrina relief. I've donated people money, and animal money. The animal money? It continues to make me cry like a baby. Please consider donating to the ASPCA, or else to here: http://katrinafoundpets.com.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:47 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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