January 2004 Issue - Essay # 8
Hey,
Buddy, Don't Laugh at My GED
By CC Moiret
|
It
will be four glorious years in June since hubby and I have taken the
long train ride to a place called work. This
moment is a strange one. You're caught in-between the conscience of good
or bad (if that exists) on what the next step should be. Good side wants
to splurge on another plane ticket and collect more air miles so we can
travel forever and ever. Bad side thinks we are losing a vital grasp to
the people around us, and the society we live in. This debate ultimately
will never win until I write that check that bounces. But, until then, I
am forced to reminisce on what gives me the right to live this way. For
my husband, he has already taken baby steps to resume his curriculum
vitae while I wake up at 4 pm and grab a java, encouraging him even though
I don’t know why. I feel this jealousy in his nonchalant attitude of
picking up where he left off when all I want to do is rebel. I explain
that, yes, he should work if it is something he wants to do but please,
please don’t settle for anything. Find something you actually enjoy
this time and by the way, can you get part-time? It
is a bit unfair, I admit. I want the best for him but at the same time
this is a challenge to me, and everything I gave up. Back when I was 22,
I reached a low point in the workforce. I didn’t have one. My nights
were filled with angst over how I could survive in a cosmopolitan city
like Hong Kong without income, without an idea of what to do next. Up
until that moment, I hadn’t done that bad. With my faulty Chinese and
naivety I managed to secure what others would deem a career. I traveled
the Asian continent and the Middle East on my first job at eighteen. I
partied in Germany for a week while attending trade shows by day. Heck,
I even met some famous people along the way when I decided, 'Screw event
promotion. I’m going into sports sponsorship,' with an embossed business
card to boot. I
never doubted my dreams to be something. If not for the stress I got
from my parents, their idea that you were nothing without a good job, I
was frightened enough to do all that I could so I wouldn’t starve. My
self-reliance helped in those times left with that one-man showmanship
of Hong Kong. In a city filled with entrepreneurs I took a chance, hoping
that they, too, believed in youth and modest beginnings. I was ready to
sacrifice everything to work my way up and answer the phones at the same
time. After
the trial and error of bad experience and realizing I needed to find an
industry I liked, I failed miserably to the point of permanent hiatus.
This new break created a monster in me that returned to nightlife with
arms too wide and a throat constantly thirsty for pubs and 'expat'
parties. Sure, I was only 22, but in cosmopolitan heaven, a move like
this could be hell plus an extra few licks from the devil himself. I
tried to be content in knowing that I had made it this far, keeping ties
with the other young wannabes striving for the corporate gold.
Differences remained in such that I found myself feeling un-educated
with their Oxford/Princeton/Whatever University chat. I faked my smiles
with a tense mouthful of teeth whenever a question was asked and I had
no idea how to answer. Street smarts could only go so far in these types
of circles, and I was too proud to let go of relations not real to
someone like me. This was high school but only bigger, something I had
not anticipated. I was afraid of people finding out I was a fake. No
amount of hard work could expel this kid that never heard of 'foie gras'
or tasted red wine in favor of a jug of beer. I played at sophistication
because this was the one thing my father taught me. No matter how much I
wasted on designers suits or mingled in product launches, I felt like an
imposter. A
big part always comes back to where you come from. I was estranged from
my parents in junior high, I quit school while grappling with three
jobs, I was kicked out as a teenager, suffering from the effects of
alcoholism and abuse; all this plus the fact nothing motivated me long
enough to continue. Job after job I was the runner. Not the jogging
health freak with high tech gear, no, I was the runner from everything
hauntingly authoritative. This quality is great for convenience but
dispensable when trying to succeed. I
was faced with unemployment when an inspiration hit me. Internet. I was
sure that this medium would be great. I was looking for excitement and
youth. Goodbye corporate suits, Internet was my calling. I could wear
jeans and ride around on bicycles at the office. I could pick up the
pieces of a little start-up and feel proud. The idea was sudden and I
set out calling the few real links I had left in hopes of grasping my
last chance at survival. One
saving grace came through a friend who already started a business. He
was kind enough to link me to another team looking for a helping hand. I
realized that to begin with I would need to start low on the ladder but
it didn’t phase my pride. I met the man who propelled me into another
world of information technology and long hours. After the initial
interview and a mandatory quiz on the basics of the Internet, I
graduated to Account Manager with 97%. I was ecstatic and so was my
future husband as he continued to randomly quiz me while shaving or
while making dinner for the weeks to come. That
year was indeed the cliché rollercoaster. I saw the beginnings of a
great company and the divide of partnerships that started them. My name
started coming up again in the circles I once hated. Faces started
changing and evolving into a community that was ruled by matching blue
shirts and jeans. I saw that, as we became more praised for our unique
services, others began recycling the shortcomings of my previous
decisions. I was fortunate enough to be too busy to notice but news
travels fast when it can inflate the egos of others. During
this interactive ride, our little company was bought by one of the big
dot-coms. I was afraid and elated at the same time. Little by little,
the eventual buy-out was going to happen. I don’t think that I really
understood what that meant. In one year our industry fame rose and
spread through gossip swaps in rival offices. People of the past phoned
me after years of silence, wondering how I was and how much stock options
I would get. It was, if anything, crazy. Even the matchmaking friend
turned sour as he refused to introduce me without stating his
territorial claim on my new job. I saw the end of our friendship when I
confessed to him one night out of disbelief how far I had come. Through
all the doubts and depression I had been through, through all the
dealings with my memories as an abused and poor teenager with nothing to
eat, I confessed that, during my year before Hong Kong, I wanted to have
at least one last chance at finishing school. He listened patiently as I
confided that I had not finished high school nor had I ever gone to
university but I passed my GED. He laughed in my face. I
think of this moment often because it makes me remind myself of who I
was and what I want to be. This particular memory makes me more humble
and ashamed that, yes, perhaps all the luck I had in my life back then
was only that, just luck. I also know that despite what anyone can think
of me it won’t matter because I am happy with what I could do with
what was given to me. It is that simple. What
happens when you get that dream that wasn’t yours to begin with? You
die inside. Even if I could pretend to welcome this new world, I could
not live it. As my workload increased and new faces joined the alliance,
things got bigger and I stopped seeing those matching blue shirts and
jeans. I longed for that moment in the beginning when me and my man
splurged on champagne to celebrate the end of poverty in our cockroach
infested squat. With three weeks to marry, I lost my hair. The tension
of so many doubts revealed themselves through over-eating and alopecia.
People always speak of the stress they have when organizing a wedding
but I have to laugh because I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown
far worse than any bride with a year to prepare. Our
honeymoon came and went and it was back to the office. I knew I
couldn’t make it. I became the runner again and escaped after a
torrent of fear kept me in bed for one week. Crushed by my own
realization of failure and that mocking laugh of the invisible phantom
friend, I did the inevitable. I left with no goodbyes and hopped on the
first plane out of the country and never came back. It is now that I can finally look back and say I have no regrets. Life is this, bits of joy and chaos, sadness and tears. I have lived them all. All that I have now is this serene peace of mind. I will never stop thinking of those that helped me along that wild ride. Having thanked them graciously before leaving my life behind, I also will never forget those who made me feel insecure enough to believe what they said about me. It gives me strength in knowing that I no longer need to live on what others want me to be. It gives me humility for appreciating all that I have now; a home, a choice and a loving husband. It is here, on this strange planet that I feel like myself.
|
| Author's Biography CC Moiret is a writer living in France. Her on-going essay project titled "Caricature--Diary of a Recovering Insomniac" has been published on several non for profit writing sites. This is the third in the series. |
Essay
Reviews! Site Reviews! We'd
like to know from our readers if they enjoy Seven Seas Magazine! Do
you have praise or complaints? Suggestions or ideas? Get notified! Would you
like to get notified as soon as new Seven Seas issues are published on
the Web? Tell a friend! Do you
enjoy the Seven Seas site?
|
|
Go back to the table
of contents |
