Trippy

I’m going on vacation soon. And while there is still the task tension of getting the mail stopped and packing the perfect clothes and worrying about the house and dog care, it feels different on this side of the employment line.

I don’t need the vacation to re-charge, catch up on my sleep or have some “me” time. I don’t have to worry about “out of office” messages or who is in charge of what while I’m gone. I don’t need to worry about being “punished” for going on vacation and coming back to my email inbox full beyond my capacity to reply and me taking days to dig out. I don’t even have to worry about my vacation days being eaten up. Because when I come back, I’ve got more where they came from.

Weird...it's almost like I'm taking a vacation from vacation. What do I need an escape from? Nothing. It's not like I am checking my blackberry before I go to bed and before I have my morning coffee and shower, it's not like I'm going to meetings about planning for upcoming meetings, which drove me nuts, it's not like I'm setting the alarm clock every day and hitting the snooze button as a sign of protest, it's not like I have to feel guilty because I have to look for my ID badge, because I never put it in the same place in my bag, and hold up the elevator queue.

Maybe on my vacation I need to recover from missing these things...Working with others towards a common purpose, laughing at meetings and not taking ourselves too seriously, being around really smart, caring and impressive colleagues, leading a team of super bright and talented folks, feeling wonderfully exhausted after an intense week of making good things happen.

When I get back from this vacation from my vacation, I’ll figure out how to have the best of both worlds. Until then, I’ve got to make sure my passport is still current, that I clean out the fridge so there are no science experiments when we return, that we pick up the dry cleaning and that my one client has everything he needs while I’m out of pocket for a few weeks. That is a nice, short "to do" list.

Burdensome?

The Federal Government sent me a certified letter last week. I found out from a yellowing slip of paper that was slid under my door. Sender: FDIC.

I picked up the letter from the post office on Saturday. Basically the FDIC spent over $5.00 to let me know that my “employment contract” was seen as too burdensome to honor.

For those of you unfamiliar with banking – often times there is something called a “change in control” for those at a certain level. In an industry that is notorious for mergers and acquisitions or my favorite term “consolidation in the industry.” Change in control agreements were leveraged as talent attraction and retention tools. At my level, it guaranteed that if my role was changed substantially through a merger or acquisition that I’d be given 1.5x my annual salary as severance.

Sounds generous, I am sure. And it is. Particularly as executive compensation is under fire. Damn those folks at AIG that flaunted their bonuses as they were receiving tax dollars to fund their turnaround. If there wasn’t a swine virus and two wars and the economy to worry about, I might actually try to petition President Obama to look into this. My letter would read something like this:

“Dear President Obama:

I am writing to you today with a slim hope that you might look into a decision made by the FDIC to not honor an employment contract for me and many of my former colleagues at Washington Mutual Bank.

Last week I received, through certified mail, a memo that the FDIC sees honoring the employment contract to be “burdensome.” Large amounts of tax dollars are being spent to bail out large financial institutions to get the country & world to a more stable economic footing. And I understand that (with the exception of them using the funds for lobbyists). I also hope that you understand that the employment contract I had with Washington Mutual, if honored, would put me and my family on more stable ground as well.

I worked for the company for over seven years. I put my heart and soul into my work. I sacrificed vacations, family time and some times it seems my health to do good things and to work on things that I felt would make a difference. I wasn’t involved in making loans – I had a HQ job and focused on human resources programs such as developing talent, assessing employee engagement, assessing performance and helping leaders with change management.

Prior to the take over and the subsequent selling of WaMu to Chase, I believed our Senior Leaders when they said that we could make it through the tough time and come out on the other end stronger. I didn’t stay because I had a “change in control” agreement. I stayed because I cared about what I was doing and about the people I was doing it for. I said no to other work for other companies. I said yes to working through a difficult period and hoping to rebuild things once we turned the corner as a business.

I wasn’t a big wig at the company. But the security blanket, along with all of my now worthless shares, evaporated with the take over. And, with a 10% unemployment rate in the state of Washington, it is likely that I won’t be able to make up that lost income for years to come. Am I not your constituency? I live in the blue state part of this very divided state. I celebrated your "win" with tears and bubbly. I am looking forward to seeing you do good things. I voted for you, dude.

All that I am asking is for a fair review of the decision. As a strong supporter of you and your administration, I thank you in advance for your consideration."

What's the address to the White House?

Pick Yourself Up By Your Bootstraps

As I was walking my dog this afternoon, a familiar face approached us and began his usual, “How’s my girl?” And “Give me a kiss.” Of course, he was talking to Dahlia, not me. He was wearing a cook’s apron and was a block from where we normally see him, outside of the liquor store on 12th politely selling “Real Change.” He told us, “I won’t be selling Real Change anymore. I’m a cook by trade. I got a job at the Satellite. They’re going to be introducing soul food to the menu.” He seemed very proud and happy. And I congratulated him, knowing that obtaining work that leverages your skills and expertise is always a wonderful thing and that to move from a state of transition to stability is also pretty darn cool.

And while I’m sure he and I have very different life stories, we probably aren’t that different, really.

I think back to my formidable years. A teenager with parents divorced and a mother diagnosed with bi-polar disease. After my family imploded, I stood on shaky ground not knowing what might come next. Eventually, still a teenager, I learned that I had to pick myself up by my bootstraps and find my own way. Not a bad life lesson. Wisdom can only come from going through something difficult.

As an adult, having gone through another sort of massive implosion of a family (hey…I was at the company for over seven years. I spent more time there than I did with my actual family) I am again in a situation where I have to pick myself up by my bootstraps and charge ahead into an uncertain future. I keep telling myself, “You’re the only one who can make this happen and you can make it happen.” Most days I believe that mantra. Some days, I don’t. And I wonder how the hell I ended up here.

Just like I can only wonder how my “Real Change” vendor ended up homeless and needing to make .35 cents on a $1 paper. And how he became a cook. And how he has kept such a sunny disposition even though he has been struggling to make ends meet. Maybe some day, we’ll be able to sit down over a beer and collard greens and tell each other our stories.

Unemployment Orientation Makes People Sick by Lei d'Off

The first of what I hope to be many guest blogger posts!

Today I went to my mandatory unemployment orientation. After a one hour drive, I arrived in the ship yard town that is home to the unemployment offices for our county. I had mistakenly believed I could find a Starbucks on the way there, but no luck. So, I arrived uncaffeinated for my three hour orientation. At the door I was greeted by a white woman in her 50's who looked surprisingly stylish. She had on fabulous glasses and a beautiful Eileen Fisher-esque outfit. The woman, we'll call her Miss. C., looked over my form and said, "Damn Girl, you've got skills!" At this point I was perplexed. Her comment seemed to be totally out of synch with her look. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as I imagined?

It was all down hill from there. Each seat had a thin blue booklet entitled "Job Hunter" and an unsharpened golf pencil. The eyes of a tiger stared up at me but I resisted the temptation to open and read ahead. I wanted to be a good pupil. Miss C. started by saying, "Pleasey, pleasey, pleasey, turn off your cell phones!" Really? The woman who said "Damn Girl" was now saying talking baby talk? I no longer cared about being a good pupil. I was surrounded by a hodge podge of humanity and my only objective was to survive the three hours without falling asleep. The man next to me wanted to know about the on line application process. Why couldn't he save five resumes like the state web site said?! He was very dogged in his pursuit of the truth. The man in front of me jittered as if he was going to crawl out of his skin. He had brought a binder which said "Sean's Recipes". Is there a recipe for finding a job? He didn't look like the cooking type.

After a painful video explaining how to fill out your weekly job search log (a form) Miss. C. went over the material again. Apparently it is very difficult to fill out this form. You must include the date, who you spoke with, their contact information and the purpose of the contact. In fact, it is so challenging that we were given a sample to review and then we were given a blank form to fill out. My mind had drifted and I missed the part where we were supposed to fill out the new form all together. This did not go unnoticed. The Assassin came and stood by me to ensure I filled out the mock form and caught up. I'll explain about the Assassin in a minute.

Once Miss. C. was satisfied that we could fill out the form, we moved on to discuss the courses they offer. Miss. C. encourages a persona approach in which you phone or visit in person the employer. She said, "The internet is not my favorite place because the numbers of people who get hired from the internet aren't very good." Huh? What was she talking about?! CLC, ERE, etc. would all beg to differ. Thank God I didn't outwardly show my disapproval. Another woman made the mistake of snorting. Miss. C. focused her laser beam attention on the woman and demanded to know if she had something to share. The woman sheepishly sank in her chair. I felt like I was in Junior High again.

Miss. C. encouraged everyone to attend the Skills and Abilities class to prepare for the subsequent Resume class. She then invited the Assassin up to the front of the room. In a campy, staged way she asked him what he did for a living before he worked in Human Resources. With pride he said, "I was an assassin in the Army for 15 years." About half of the class stared blankly at him, while the other half seemed to teeter on the edge of their seats. They were dying to know more. The Assassin went on to talk about his Army career and how, after leaving the Army, he tried to get into HR for five months with no luck. But then, one day, he attended the Skills and Abilities course at Work Source and it changed his life. That day he transformed his resume from chronological to a functional format and suddenly opportunity abounded. Before joining Unemployment he worked for a shelter and then as a recruiter for a HMO. One woman looked as though she was going to spring out of her seat an applaud his inspiring story of success.

An hour and a half after this torture began, we were separated into groups and sent to various floors to meet one on one with counselors. My counselor didn't know what to do with me. I tried to make him feel comfortable, but he kept fumbling around. He said, "Um, you, um, seem to be very together. I mostly work with blue collar people. Um, do you need my help?" There was a visible wave of relief that washed over him when I said I felt confident in my job search capabilities and would certainly call him if I needed additional support. The counseling session was supposed to take an hour, but it only took a few minutes. I think he really wanted me to go. I wonder what would have happened if I said I wanted him to counsel me?

I skipped out of the building like a kid on the last day of school before summer break. The sun was shining and I was on my way to find coffee. As I arrived at my car I noticed something awful. Someone had thrown up right next to my driver's door. A lone cigarette butt floated on the liquid. SERIOUSLY!? Someone went out of their way to duck in between my car and another to vomit? Were they smoking and suddenly felt ill? I gagged as I stepped over the mass and thought, I'm not surprised someone got sick from that orientation. Frankly it's a miracle I didn't get ill.

Go Forward & Follow Your Dreams?!

In the last week I have had two vivid dreams related to working at my former employer. The first one had to do with me being late for a meeting and not being able to figure out the elevator system to get to the meeting. The second one had to do with me not being invited to participate on an organization design working team where my fate was being determined.

Despite having an educational background in psychology, I am no Sigmund Freud when it comes to interpreting dreams. Certainly, in both dreams there was anxiety. And familiar faces. And a sense of urgency.

Feeling curious this morning, I fired up my computer and went to a dream interpretation site called “Dream Moods.”

Here’s what they say being late in a dream means:

“To dream that you are late, denotes your fear of change and your ambivalence about seizing an opportunity. You may feel unready, unworthy, or unsupported in your current circumstances. Additionally, you may be overwhelmed or conflicted with decisions about your future. You feel time is running out and that you do not have time to accomplish all the things you want.”

There wasn’t anything on their site about being left out or excluded, so I went back to the internet and found a website called “The Curious Dreamer.” Here’s what came up when I typed excluded:

"-You are feeling rejected, let down, or left out in real life—in a current or past situation
-You are rejecting or judging yourself in some way (try releasing judgments of yourself and accepting yourself just as you are)"

I certainly don’t know the validity of these sites and I’m not 100% convinced that certain symbols in dreams can be universally interpreted. Still, these interpreted meanings got me thinking…

It’s true that I’m starting to feel anxious about finding one or two more clients so that I can spend the year building up my consulting practice. I don’t feel unworthy or unready or unsupported in my endeavor, but it’s true that my future is a little uncertain at the moment. Having been an equal partner in our finances with my husband, I can’t stand the thought of not eventually being able to pull my weight, even though we’re fine right now.

Given I’ve been somewhat laid back about getting going because I have one client already, I’m going to gander that my subconscious was telling me that I need to get serious about my new business and start treating it like a fulltime job.

I found it interesting that being excluded = being rejected. True, I lost my job (as have many others) and yes I feel let down by my former company. And yes, I can be judgmental of myself. But in the dream, there was also a sense of a power struggle. So my interpretation of my second dream is that I am having to let go of who I thought I was working “for the man” and figure out who I want to be in this next phase of my career.

I hope my next dream has me holding a daisy, walking through a passage way and onto a dock for a smooth sailing adventure. According to “The Curious Dreamer” that would mean that there is friendship, good will and happiness in my life and that I’m experiencing a new beginning and that my life is moving along well, and I am feeling supported and fortunate.

Oh – wait. I don’t need to dream that. I already have that in my life! And while there will be ups and downs along this journey, that will make all of the difference in the world.

Who Are Those People?

Have you ever found yourself on a rare expedition outside the confines of your cube or office and on the streets mid-day? Have you ever wondered why there are so many people milling about? Did you ever think, “What do these people do for a living?” And then ask yourself, “How do I get their gig?” I’ve become one of them. I’ve become a roaming, providential pedestrian. Seemingly unfettered but full of purpose none-the-less.

We live a wonderfully diverse neighborhood. It’s not uncommon to find yourself in the line at Café Vita sandwiched between a hipster with tattoos and piercings and a mom stopping off for some java after dropping her child off at school at Seattle Academy of Arts and Sciences. There are the happy yoga-ites and the truly down and out. There are artists, musicians, writers and dancers. There are suit and tie types, software engineers in jeans and t-shirts, government workers, and the under or unemployed. I feel at home here. I feel that I’m not being judged here. Differences are appreciated here.

Yesterday, though, I was downtown for a few errands. And I felt a little out of place. I was surrounded by people with company badges around their necks or fastened to their belt loops walking with Subway bags in their hands – going back to work to eat their sandwiches at their desks before their next meeting. Women, with full on makeup and hair just so, in suits and carrying briefcases in their well manicured hands. Men in sport coats jaywalking. Young men wearing dress shirts and ties looking cocky and self-important.

Me, I was walking in flip flops post pedicure, with my shopping bags in hand and heading to the market to buy tulips with no great plan after that but to go back home and sit on our deck and read in the sun.

I’m not at the point where I’m feeling lazy or anything. The days whiz by like a baseball pitch going past the plate at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. I think I’m pretty productive in this new, unstructured lifestyle I’ve got going on. On occasion, though, my husband will ask, “What did you do all day?” Sometimes I say, “I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. Time seems to have shape shifted on me since I’ve been laid off. It has sped up.

I’m not quite sure what people think when they see me walking around mid-day now with no particular signs of stress. If only they knew that six months ago I was always rushing to the next thing or walking down the sidewalk furiously typing a response to an urgent email and dodging people so I didn’t collide with them. I think they would have said back then, “She’s bonkers.” Now, they’re probably thinking, “How do I get her gig?”

Bye and Bye

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, our national unemployment rate is at 8.5%. Over 5 million jobs have been lost since the beginning of the recession. What’s unbelievable is that in the last five months alone, 3.3 million jobs have been lost. Women are doing better than men. Whites are doing better than blacks. The under 20 set is getting hammered regardless of gender or race.

Thank goodness Michigan State has clawed its way through March Madness and has made it to the big show because there’s not much to cheer about in Michigan these days. Their unemployment rate is at nearly 10%. With the restructuring of the car companies, I think we ain’t seen nothing yet. Their state motto, though, is kind of comforting: “If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you.” So, if you’ve lost your job, at least you can get on out there and enjoy the scenery.

The place to be is Wyoming. Their unemployment rate is at 3.2%. Ah, if I had only studied forestry, mining or tourism. Or learned to ski! Wyoming’s motto is: “Equal Rights.” Not very catchy, but I kind of see where they are going.

The state of Washington is below the national average. We’re currently sitting at 6.4%. Our major businesses include jets, software development, electronics and biotechnology. We also do our fair share of forestry, mining and tourism. Our state motto is: "Eventually," or "Bye and bye." That’s a pretty laidback motto. Fitting, really, for the Pacific Northwest.

Let me try it out. Eventually, we’ll all find work we love. Eventually, we’ll be able to build back our retirement accounts. Eventually the recession will end.

Works for me.

Parallel Universe?

I have the distinction of having worked for both Enron and Washington Mutual - two disastrous corporate tales of woe. How will my resume look to future clients or employers? Will they find me to be cursed and shred my resume to ensure the bad juju doesn’t seep into their organization? I don’t think so. Well, at least, I hope not. I was with a subsidiary of Enron for seven months and WaMu for seven plus years. I feel certain that they’ll cut me a break.

I only went to Houston twice during my short stint – Enron’s HQ building was magnificent, I remember. In fact, I was there when they were breaking ground for their space for a trading floor that would resemble the NYSE. WaMu, several years later, decided to make its mark in Seattle by building a wonderful leadership center called Cedarbrook and a few years later a new corporate tower called WaMu Center. Also a magnificent building.

It makes me wonder: Do companies who think they are making history in a certain industry get too big for their britches and fall under the weight of their arrogance and collective ego?

If you haven’t watched “Smartest Guys in the Room,” you should. It thoughtfully shows the rise and fall of “one of the most innovative” companies in its day. The well researched documentary on Enron (with a tag line of: It’s Just Business) will one day be a classic in business schools – teaching up and coming business leaders about how executives can rationalize anything and how people who are involved in strategic decisions can lose their minds if they sniff out great profit and think they are too smart to get caught.

Let’s see if these companies resemble one another:

Enron was once the 7th largest company in the United States and it fell into bankruptcy a year later after making that distinguished mark on Wall Street. WaMu was the 7th largest bank and fell into receivership with the FDIC within weeks of looking for a potential buyer

Top executives at Enron padded their banking accounts with billions of dollars leaving their shareholders and employees in the dust. Most of the WaMu executives got screwed when the company went into receivership, as did the employees and shareholders and institutional investors.

Enron got into an interesting game in California trying to capitalize on deregulation. One of the reasons why WaMu was hit so hard was that it was heavily invested in California – particularly in the housing market.

Enron had some dodgy accounting practices that ultimately burnt their behinds. WaMu, the media is reporting, bet on the housing boom and got into some “exotic loans” and the unstable sub-prime market. That decision, in hindsight, turned out to be poison to the system.

Kenneth Lay was convicted and sentenced to jail (but died of a heart attack about three months before he had to start serving his term.) Jeff Skilling is serving out his sentence at a Federal Correctional Institute in Colorado.

I’m not sure what the top brass is doing at the now defunct WaMu nor do I have an inkling about what’s in store for them legally. But, I do hope someone is sketching out a documentary that will follow the recent financial services debacle. And I wouldn’t mind if they put in something about the FDIC’s seizure of WaMu. All the shareholders, institutional investors and employees deserve the facts of what went on behind closed doors. At least that’s my opinion. Knowing the nitty-gritty would not change things or turn back time. I’m not looking for a “re-start” button. I’d be satisfied with some answers.

I feel bad writing this – but when the implosion of Enron came, I felt no kinship. No anything really. It was just a news story. And now, having gone through a similar scenario – a company failing so many people in so many ways - I am haunted with a sense of remorse. How could I have been so dispassionate? So many Enron employees lost their life savings. They had believed in the media hype. They had felt special and like they were changing the world. They had invested in their company. And it all went bye-bye in a snap of a finger. What a brutal tragedy.

There are so many people in the Seattle area who have no compassion for WaMu. On blogs they call all of us greedy crooks. They think we walk around without a soul. And I’m hurt by these accusations. People say we deserved what we got. I can sincerely say, they don’t know what they are talking about. But, they won’t listen until, perhaps, one day, something similar happens to them.

Life, we’re all learning, is not just about the Benjamins. There’s a sweetness in simplifying, in thinking twice about purchases, in valuing and making the most of this gift of time. That’s what I’m going to be focusing on from here-on-out. Thinking positively about the future isn’t just a state of mind. I really do believe some good will come out of these experiences and I am open to what the universe will throw at me next.

By the way, I don't know the answer to my original question of are Enron and WaMu in parallel universes. Time will tell.

It's a Small World Afterall

My world just got very small. Well, smaller I should say. Working from home versus downtown has already changed a few habits. I no longer walk by Café Vita every morning for my iced tall Americano. I no longer eat every meal at a restaurant (or, truth be told, nine times out of ten at my desk). No more spontaneous shopping sprees in the retail corridor. No more taking bus route #2 and listening to people talking on their cell phones or watching strangers chatting loudly across the aisle (often with entertaining content, at least on this bus route).

So, you’re wondering how my world got smaller today? I switched banks. For nearly six years, from our deck or dining room table, I have watched the comings and goings of Bank of America car and foot traffic. My trip to BofA this afternoon, because I hit a green light at the corner of 13th and Madison, took me maybe two minutes on foot. The convenience was staggering.

As an ex-WaMu employee and once loyal customer (I was a customer before I became a “Wamulian”), it was strange to sit in the rust-orange colored chair, waiting for the branch manager to work with me on opening my business checking account. The red and blue colors, in signage and marketing materials, were jarring on my eyes compared to the earth tones of our once famed Occasio stores (Occasio, by the way, means favorable opportunity in Latin. Kind of ironic, don’t you think?).

The staff at this BofA branch were very friendly. I watched the tellers joking with customers or subtly cross selling. They were behind bullet proof glass (I assume its glass) and yet their warmth, through smiles and have a nice weekend comments, emanated throughout the entire lobby. This branch – it had great energy. The energy of Capitol Hill. And, they gave out candy. Nice touch.

I don’t want to say I was brainwashed – but BofA had a bad wrap at WaMu. Cold. Mechanized. Unconcerned with customer service. Stodgy. Truthfully, today, I didn’t see it. Didn’t feel it. This place was rockin’. And signing up for my accounts (um – I also opened up a personal checking account) was easy, painless and high touch. The branch manager walked me through every step personally. I was impressed.

I have been torn for months about what to do with my WaMu checking account. My initial intent was to take my money and run once my bonus (it was small…don’t freak out people) and severance was paid. But then I went to the WaMu branch at the QFC on Broadway to deposit my severance check and the branch manager, knowing what it was, said empathetically, “We might have to put a hold on this.” And then, when it went through, he asked me how I was doing, had I found work? I felt then and there that these were my peeps, regardless of being a part of Chase. How could I hold these local workers in contempt? Why would I hurt their bottom line? They are innocent bystanders just like me in the whole…whatever it was that we are all living through.

Ah, but the branch manager at BofA was good. Sentimentality can only go so far. Like a calm and caring priest, he somehow knew how to help relieve me of my guilt. It went back to a simple truth - living a life of convenience is good. It will be easier to transfer money back and forth between my business account and my personal checking account while they are under one roof.

Sorry WaMu. I do love you. But I’m moving on. It’s time

And, dang, did I mention how close the branch is? Need cash for pizza? No worries. I’ll be back before my husband has completed the order! No cab money and we have to leave in fifteen minutes? No problemo, I won’t have to trek far to get to an ATM. I can visually see how busy they are. Don’t want to wait in line for a transaction? Count the number of cars in the parking lot! Oh – and did I mention how nice they are? Oh – and I can do everything on-line for the most part. I might never have to leave my perch.

If an independent bookstore, a café with fabulous gourmet vegetarian food (this is my plea to Carmelitas to come into the hood) and a gym that has the secret to getting Michelle Obama’s arms with little, if no, effort, moved into the retail space that is being built in the Pike-Pine corridor, I might never have to go more than a few blocks for life’s essentials.

It’s a small world, after all.

My Seattle Vision

Turning left onto Pike towards downtown, the once familiar urban hike was hauntingly strange to me. It’s as if I had left town for a long trip and the surroundings had changed, people had moved on without me, the mood had shifted. Stores and restaurants I knew were gone – “for lease” signs tacked up on the windows. Businesses vanishing into thin air or had I imagined them? There were a few new stores, too. Brave entrepreneurs willing to try their luck in this economy. I respect them. For taking the plunge. For being okay with what will come their way. For seeing it through.

In the neighborhood, the brewpub is still going strong, as is the Wiccan shop. In place of a ReMax office, there is now a smoke shop. People needing cigarettes and bongs, or magic or beer. It kind of makes sense when you think about it. Who can afford real estate these days?

Crossing Boren Avenue, I started to feel tense, as if I was on my way to meet an ex-boyfriend who had recently and unceremoniously dumped me after seven mostly wonderful years together. Reality was that I was walking to my eye doctor for a check up. He used to be in a convenient location for me – two blocks from the WaMu Center. Wamu and me. We had to part ways. I’ll admit, I wasn’t fully prepared for the “I loved you…but I’ve met someone else” conversation.

I’ve been back to the Center only twice since I got the notice that my services were no longer required. Once to clear out my office – or villa (a modern, cost saving, octagonal shower stall of a workspace). Seven plus years fit into eight Public Storage boxes. Granted, most of the contents were books that I’ve accumulated since graduate school over 20 years or so ago. But, much to the chagrin of my husband, taking up space in our storage unit now, collecting dust, are my tangible, tactile memories from WaMu – group pictures from retreats and recognition trips, stupid, branded trinkets that I couldn’t throw away for some reason, certificates of achievement, my WaMu teller doll still in his original box - souvenirs of a bygone era.

The last time I went to the Center was to turn in my laptop, blackberry and badge. I did it on a bank holiday weekend, knowing that I wouldn’t run into many, if any, people I knew. What can I say? I like to grieve in private. Before leaving, I couldn’t resist stopping by my old shower stall on the 17th floor. Looking out at the view I had if I had gotten out of my ergonomically correct chair and away from my computer, I saw Pike Place Market and the Elliot Bay Marina and the Olympic Mountains. I took a deep breath and went to one more special place before leaving the building for good. Our award winning terrace, which was on the same floor as my “office.” I said goodbye to the zen plants and the abacus and the promise that this building had held for me. When I turned around, I didn’t look back. I was on my own.

But, I digress. Back to my walk towards downtown. Passing the convention center and watching people in suit jackets and ties, I was reminded of a game James, my husband, and I used to play – “Guess what convention is in town” – based on what people were wearing. The anime or technology conferences were always too easy. And the mid-westerners, no matter what convention was in town, were always easy to spot, lined up, outside in any kind of weather, at the Cheesecake Factory. With just a little bit of research, they could have dined at some of the most refreshing and innovate restaurants this side of the Mississippi. Instead, they walked away with “doggie bags” of food that would ultimately get dumped into the hotel’s garbage where they were staying. How do you reheat onion rings in a hotel room?

Anyway, it was no fun playing the conventioneer guessing game in my head. I didn’t even look at the nametags people were wearing. I was just glad the sun was out for them. I wanted them to have a positive impression of Seattle. To go back home and tell their friends and family that they had been pleasantly surprised by the beauty and vibrancy of downtown. A gal can hope.

Past the convention center, I found myself in the retail corridor. Everywhere I looked there were sale signs – 25% off – 50% off. Maybe all of the people were inside the shops spending their hard earned money because the streets felt empty and devoid of energy. Where was the bustle and where was the familiar hustle? In place of the kindly, grey haired black gentleman who used to stand by Roxy with his baseball hat in hand waiting for donations was a younger, more edgy threesome almost daring you to walk past them without acknowledging them or plopping some change in their empty guitar case. Had the bad economy trickled down to the traditionally down and out? Maybe the smart ones were hanging out in Bellevue? Last time I was in Bellevue, it felt like NYC. Though, not a lot of pedestrians….just a lot of cars. So, maybe the smart ones have left Seattle for more prosperous cities with less laid off people and more foot traffic?

So, I went to my eye doc and had to take in a glimpse of the Center before going in. I eyed it with reverence, not regret. Damn fool that I am. I also felt a tinge of sadness. But, I stuffed that, of course.

My exam went fine – but I learned - at the age of 42 - that my vision was getting better but that I need progressive lenses. Ah – the one-two punch! I joked with the doc that the last year at WaMu had aged me. It probably has. A few more grey hairs. A few more stress lines in my face. I can only hope, though, that I am now wiser and no worse for the wear and tear.

A kick in the pants to find a new career is not a bad thing. But I feel like I’ve left a family behind and now we’ll only get back together for infrequent reunions or celebrations such as births, weddings and regretfully for funerals. Oh – and the occasional happy hour.

I live a mile away from the mighty Center and it all seems so far away. A mirage looming out of the sky. A dream. A mixed dream. Some parts bad. Some parts good.

As I write this, I also feel a sense of adventure ahead. And possibly of relief. Things aren’t that bad outside of the “institution.” I don’t miss the mind-numbing politics or the constant change of direction or eating lunch at my desk or being on 24x7 and interrupting my family time with sayings such as, “Just one more email” or “I’ll meet you upstairs.” I’m still connected with my cherished WaMu colleagues and friends. That’s the big bonus leaving the joint - having worked with such amazingly talented people – we all get to help each other out with what’s next. The sense of camaraderie didn’t go away - it’s just not as concentrated as it used to be.

And, I’m starting my own independent consulting firm, a dream I’ve had for many a year. Most importantly, I get to be more in the moment and appreciative of the beautiful and simple things around me. Walking my dog, Dahlia, I see the beauty of spring in the cherry tree blossoms, the happy yellow of the daffodils and the unfurling chartreuse leaves of anchored, ancient trees. Nothing is taken for granted. I’m content, not frenetic. I’m caught up on my sleep and not burning my candles at both ends. I’m getting to know my neighborhood and my neighbors. I have time to connect, really connect, with my family and friends. I don’t know how I lived such a distracted life before.

Next week, I get to pick up my new bi-focals (let’s call them what they are). My eye doc is close to my dentist. Maybe I should make an appointment with him. But that’s hard for me to think about. No, I’m not too busy to make the time. And I really like my dentist and god knows that I’m over due. It’s just that his office looks directly at the Center. I don’t know if I could stand getting my teeth cleaned while looking at that building. It once represented hope and innovation and progress. I look at it now, and it’s like getting a filling put in without Novocain. Maybe Dr. J could give me laughing gas. That might ease the pain.