The Talk

Those of you that know me know I tend toward the anxious side. I try (really try) not to show it, but when I have a big decision, talk, or even recipe choice, I start to stress. It starts in my running shoes, which I've worn to walk about, on average, six miles a day for the past three weeks. Then it moves to my mouth, and I start to grind my teeth, leaving me tired and a little cranky the next day. Then it settles in my tongue, which I senselessly wag every night on the phone to talk to B about what's going on.

Lately, my touch-stone of anxiety has been the job conversation I had to have with my boss. Would they let me work long-distance for a year? Would they be amenable to a flexible schedule? Would they dramatically wipe the sweat from their brow, say they'd been waiting for this moment, and then fire my sorry tail right then? The answer is somewhere in between.

Even though I shouldn't, I put big stock into dreams. This morning my boss walked in and said she had one about me and my co-worker E. In her dream, E was working really hard and trying to get all of us to leave her alone so she could finish her work. Me? I'd moved to an office all the way across the building that was huge, but too big to actually get my computer to plug into the wall, so she was watching me drag my computer by the cord to get it to connect.

Knowing this had been the day I'd planned to talk to her, I was flabbergasted. In her dream, I'd moved to an office across the building where I couldn't connect. Ok, so it's basically the stuff fortune tellers are made of, but still. What are the odds?

It ended up being a great day at work. Our photoshoot went amazingly well. She and I grabbed lunch and talked wedding stuff (hers in relation to mine) for a little bit. I'd prayed about today and asked God to give me an easy time and a clear opening, so after we'd had all these nice chats that made me calm down, I went into her office and spilled the beans. Everywhere.

I told her that B had another year left, that we'd be in Atlanta for 7-8 weeks, then in Birmingham for 4-5, then in Durham from August to May, and that I could come home once a month and I'd like to take my job and we'd know our plans more...

You get the picture.

Once I got it all out, we started at the beginning, calendars open, and walked through it. Long story short? Who knows. She was super understanding (and excited!) about the wedding, but also realistic that she can't tell me today, or even in the next few months, what will happen because, realistically, that would be ensuring job security, which no one can do these days. She said she's talk to HR and that she'd like to table it until the New Year, which was exactly what I had hoped for.

So whew. That's my big talk down. I'm not worried about finding a dress or booking the right rehearsal dinner spot, but I have been worried about my job. I love it. Simple as that. So, we'll see, and now I feel better that I've been upfront with her about it, so now I can be totally honest about our upcoming plans. When people ask what will happen, I'll just smile and say, "We're working on it." Regardless, I can put my backup plan to become an after-hours telemarketer on hold (pun intended), at least for a little while.