I've been meaning to sit down and tell you the story of what took me away from Paradise and then chewed me up and spit me back out: AKA my old job

But I keep forgetting.

Needless to say I'm writing a book about it, tentatively titled "Tales of a Bureau-crazy Nut" or "The One Bad Apple Speaks" so I'll give you the short, short version.

See a long time ago (two years ago) I was living in San Diego finishing my masters degree (woo, smarty in the hizouse!). I was young, fun, fancy free and had a lot of credit card debt because I was young, fun and fancy free. I was also single as all get out, dating master of San Diego, involved in a patently bad for me relationship with my ex boyfriend (though not a real relationship just a "I'll lean on you when I want to but then I'll push you away" sexy dance that people do when they should just let go but they can't) and living four blocks from the beach with my best friend, Lo. We were two small town girls in a big city. We went everywhere and did everything and then we blogged about it. Vee was there, she can tell you.

Anyway, somewhere along the way I kept getting older and my debt kept getting bigger and my job as a file clerk at a law office wasn't really the whole "oh, guess what my daughter does" job my parents had in mind.

One could call me a writer but I hadn't published anything... yet.

So, long story short I took a job, a very grown up, straight laced, all benefits included, here's your own office (used to be a filing closet but, beggers and what not), with a door, a parking spot, a future, a grown up life etc. etc. They recruited me, flattered me, encouraged me (but did not wine nor dine me as it was the kind of job where we couldn't seem as if we were inappropriately using funds, even though, and this kind of gives away part of the book, funds were being inappropriately used all over the darn place) and my parents said "oh my God you can finally start saving for retirement" and that just felt like that.

Of course this "retirement friendly" job wasn't in San Diego, hence, I moved, far away to the land of not San Diego.

Somewhere between being offered the job and moving I met and fell in love with Husband, we decided we couldn't live without each other, he moved to where I was living, we got married, got pregnant, moved into a three bedroom house in the suburbs, and then I got fired.

Okay not fired, "let go" in the most literal sense of the term. Not fired because I hadn't actually done anything wrong and they didn't have cause to fire me, so instead they let me go, pulled the old "it's not you, it's me" and sent me packing.

Relief? Mostly. Disappointment? Somewhat. Confusion? Yeah.

Don't get me wrong, I hated it there. I hated the crazy steps you had to take to get anything done, how inefficient most of the system was, how people could honestly tell you "you either fit in or you don't" and keep a straight face. I hated how they didn't like people who laughed (this is not my statement but rather another person who worked there) and they didn't like young people (with their new fangled ideas). Spent most of my tenure there depressed and longing for the good old days of San Diego, wondering if I'm weird because I think work places should be friendly, open and honest or if I just don't get that the REAL world is much different then the small San Diego office of yesteryear.

Being "let go" was a stepping stone I honestly never thought I would have to take, ever. Pride myself on being the overachieving pleaser of my honors English days. Kept hearing "well it's really not you, it's them" but it somehow feels like that guy who breaks up with you before you could break up with him, and you just want to scream "I was gonna break up with you! I don't like you that much anyway!" And he just nods like "sure you were, trying to save face huh?"

I remember sitting in my supervisors office the day it all went down, this wave of "oh my god I get to move back to San Diego" coupled with a "holy crap what are people going to think?" and finally "how am I ever going to be perfect when I now have this imperfect STAIN on my career record?" and finally "wait a minute, I was gonna break up with you! In three months when my probation was over so I didn't have to pay back the bonus you gave me when I signed on!"

I learned a lot, mostly about how you really do have to be in a job that you love, but not only that you have to be willing to create and not settle for an office that doesn't work with you but instead against you. And you can move forward... trust me.

And now it's almost a year later and I have returned to San Diego and I live three blocks from the beach with Husband and Baby and my friends come to visit and my job...

Well, I went and returned to the old law office.

And it's nice.

Today I had to call my old office to get some information and get a few things taken care of and sadly it left this kind of bitter taste in my mouth. They too have moved on...

But they were happy to hear from me.

Of course they were, boys always look back and realized what they missed.