Enlightenment at 80 MPH

Enlightenment at 80 MPH

The day, like many, has dragged on. I’m exhausted, hungry, and frustrated. As I get in the car, I begin to contemplate how my final meeting of the day had ended. Going in, I knew this meeting was going to feel like a marathon. It didn’t help that I had skipped lunch in hopes of leaving early. The man leading the meeting was known for his sexist behavior and remarks, so I was prepared to be shot down for my newest idea.

Working a desk job at an appliance engineering firm sounds much more interesting than it actually is. I had found it fascinating when I was a newly graduated twenty-two year old. I truly thought that I would change the world! I’d always loved math, and knowing that I would be able to apply the subject to real world calculations absolutely thrilled me.

It only took two months into this soul sucking job to make me realize it wasn't what it was cracked up to be, yet here I am, four years later, still stuck. I had so many ideas, but the men at my firm (also known as the professionals in charge) wanted to hear nothing from the female employees. Not a single one of them allowed even a word to come out of my mouth without telling me to get back to work. They create the ideas, and then I’m stuck here calculating out the math that they get to take credit for. It’s ridiculous!

This meeting though, I had this excellent idea to create a specialized mixer for the baking community

Huh, that’s a pretty sign, I’ve never seen it before. Bloomin Flowers is such a cute name for a floral shop.

My mixer creation would turn an ordinary appliance into an extraordinary kitchen tool, complete with a built-in food scale, an egg holder, butter softener, snow cone and soft serve makers, and twelve built-in kitchen utensil holders. All of these would be compacted into a standard 8x14 mixer. It was genius and tailored to every baker’s dream needs.

AND they wouldn’t even let the first words of my idea leave my mouth. They shut me down immediately and asked a male coworker to share his kitchen tool idea. AND HIS WAS BORING. It was an automatic pancake dispenser. You put the batter in, and it systematically pours perfect pancakes onto your griddle. Yes, it's a good idea, but it doesn't compare to mine! Then, to add even more humiliation, the leader of the meeting applauded the idea and proceeded to assign me the job of figuring out its ideal calculations. I’m being told to calculate the correct dimensions and how much batter should be poured per pancake. That should be done by, i don’t know, maybe the man who created it?! When I then politely asked if I could share my own idea, he said no and the meeting was adjourned.

Huh. There’s that sign again. “Bloomin Flowers” Weird, maybe there’s two.

I’m incredibly frustrated. My mixer design stemmed from my own love of baking. As a child, I consistently dreamed of being a baker and owning my own bakery. As I grew older, I realized how difficult it would be to find success in the small business industry. I was scared, and so I settled for something more comfortable. A job that was bound to make money, while still keeping my brain engaged. But no, instead I pushed myself into a position in which I’ve been stuck in for the past four years. It sucks away all my time and energy, leaving no room for friends or god forbid a romantic relationship. I just can’t do it anymore. It's mind-numbingly hollow and spirit-crushing.

Wait…was that the same sign? Wow, Bloomin Flowers has purchased quite a lot of ad space. They must really be in need of business.

I’m just so tired and yearning for the sense of freedom that my dream career surely could have provided. But how could I ever think that I would be able to make it as a baker? I’ve only ever baked for fun and even then only basic items: cakes, cookies, pies, and cupcakes. My decorating skills need work. As do my actual baking skills. I’m just not sure if anyone would even be willing to try my product.

I guess I’m just doomed to eternal frustration until retirement. I guess I could ask for a raise but who would ever listen to me. Maybe I could try to find a more female forward agency to work for, but that means I’d lose my source of income for a while. I need to be able to afford the bills and necessities that snatch my money away each month. My stomach sways slightly. A heavy wave of exhaustion hits me and my frustration peaks as I merge into the farthest left lane. I can’t live my life this way. I need more freedom, and more joy. I only get to live life once and this job, this job is my life.

WHAT IS HAPPENING, why did I just see that sign again? Bloomin Flowers has turned from cute, to just plain annoying.

But, does this job really make me happy? Now that I’ve begun to think about it, absolutely not. I sit there as each day flies by. I watch others my age advance in life while I remain stuck in this awful, little position. There is so much more that I could achieve if I broke free of the constraints this job places onto me. You know what, I’m going to resign. I’d much rather be baking in my kitchen, running a bakery even, than sitting here working an awful job for mediocre pay! Yes, I’m going to quit this wretched job, and I’m going to begin work on my baking career.

I feel a rush deep in my chest. Excitement perhaps, at the idea of being happy? I feel a weird desire to open my already open eyes. Maybe this is what enlightenment feels like! For the first time in years, the horizon looks clear.

But when my eyes actually snap open, the world begins to spin in a doomed spiral. Concrete. Headlights. Honking. Screaming (is that me?). No, no, no. My life was just getting started, and I’d finally found fulfillment. Then the world shatters into a deafening roar of crumpling steel and breaking glass as the median rushes up to meet me.