The career mirage

Isabella sat in the glow of the pixels that would consume her day. Coffee steam filled her nostrils as she blew into her travel mug before attempting to take a sip. One at a time she clicked on the emails in her inbox, reading only the subject lines before quickly making them disappear.

Events she didn’t care about. Retirement parties for people she didn’t know. Breaking news headlines from the New York Times. It was all too bleak for 9 am. She opened her calendar and drifted into the future. When is the next holiday? Damn, not for another 8 weeks.

More sips of hot coffee. She sank a little lower in her seat when she heard the footsteps down the hall. Click, click, click. Browsing the calendar once more for signs of any reprieve.

The footsteps made their way to her.

“Good morning, Isabella! How was your weekend?”

“Good morning. Nice and relaxing. How about yours?”

“Too short! My daughter came to visit, and we went on a family outing…”

Oh no, not the detailed recount of the weekend. Why do people do this? Would they like it if I gave them every

detail of my weekend?

Isabella forced a smile and gave polite “oohs and ahhs” with an occasional “wow that sounds fun!”

She reached for reinforcement, the mouse, the ultimate signal of busyness but the storyteller went on.

The phone rang, and Isabella had to repress a sigh of relief.

Not even a call for my department. Yes! A two-for-one.

Another sip of coffee. Absent-mindedly, Isabella reached for her phone and began scrolling through her photos. Scrolling back three years, she saw what remained of her time in Mexico. Little rectangles of moments whose ghosts haunted her mind.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she scrolled. An image of herself in Oaxaca made her thumb freeze. The photo captured her standing barefoot, balanced on the edge of a cliff in jean shorts and a black bikini top with a sun hat in her hand. A lush and wild jungle of hair, cascaded down the arch of her back. With skin like wet sand illuminated by a sunset. And though her face was in shadow she could see the brilliance of her smile.

Life was stressful during that time, not knowing when or how she would make money. Her mind a tangle of fears, doubts, and self-loathing, but she couldn’t see any signs of that in the photo.

She felt a pang in her stomach and a knot in her throat. A flash of sorrow came over her that felt like remembering a deceased loved one.

A career in the US was supposed to fix everything.

Isabella peered over her cubicle to see if the coast was clear for her Mission Impossible challenge. Make it to the restroom without becoming a victim of small talk.

The hallway was clear. Just a quick dash past the elevator. Almost there. The door swung open before she could put her weight on it.

“Oh pardon me!”

“Oh, that’s alright Isabella, it’s not your fault you can’t see through the door!”

Isabella smiled kindly and held the door open as the woman shuffled past her with her cane.

“This is some great weather we’re having today, isn’t it?” the woman said with a beaming smile.

“Yes, it is, I just wish we could enjoy it!”

“Yes, this basement is quite oppressive, isn’t it?”

God, please don’t let me be that old working in a place like this.

The row of cubbies offered the illusion of privacy that the cracks between the door dismantled. The smells of humans being human offended her senses. It was possibly the worst part of being torn from the comfort of her home.

As she washed her hands she inspected her costume for the day. The wrinkly top she had acquired at a thrift store was baggy and unflattering.

Tonight I’ll do laundry.

Isabella considered it a successful mission when she returned to her desk.

Five new emails in her inbox. Two more meetings today. She clicked yes on the invites, took a long sip of coffee, and pulled out a notepad.

On one side, she wrote “pros” then a long line through the middle, and “cons” on the other side.

Pros:

Cheaper cost of living

Vibrant culture

Connect with my roots

Freedom

Freedom

Freedom

Cons:

No job prospects or ways to make money

Away from my family

No friends

No money to help my parents

Isabella circled “away from my family” several times, tore out the sheet of paper, and crumpled into a tiny ball.

The desk was littered with the detritus of office life. Paper, notebooks, pens, cups, sticky notes and in one corner a clutter of fake plants.

Another email came through. How is it only 11 am??

Isabella uncrossed her legs and readjusted herself several times in her seat. Down the hall, she could hear loud chatter and laughter.

Am I the only one who feels like a caged animal here?

Time to log in to the first meeting of the day.

“Hello everyone!” Lina said, smiling into the camera but she barely recognized herself.

Her hair clung to her head like the leaves of a willow tree. The skin of her face, gray like weathered lumber.

Dark puffy clouds billowed beneath her eyes. Could other people see it?

Tonight, she would prepare her lunch for the rest of the week. Do yoga and meditate. She would go to bed early and get more than 6 hours of sleep.

On her desk sat a notebook on which she doodled as the head of the department shared “exciting new plans.”

“Does anyone have any ideas about how we can create some actionable tasks?”

Actionable tasks. How about no more pointless meetings that just offload your work onto us masqueraded as

“collaboration.”

Her mind drifted to the photos from earlier.

Was this what it meant to be an adult? To be successful. All those hours she spent working towards the dream of a career hadn’t prepared her for the reality. The cage of a desk job, the soul crushing meaninglessness of it all.

She had traded freedom for the security of a biweekly deposit of ones and zeros in a bank account. It was supposed to give her power, liberate her, liberate her family but none of that had come true. Maybe in time it would…

Is it worth it though?