The brisk smell of the cool, fresh Atlanta air hit my face as I left my new office. A shift in scenery from North Dakota and my freelance gig was the new start I needed after a messy divorce. Especially in an open environment with a booming startup. Luckily I was able to craft together my skills and make it sound somewhat thrilling on the countless resumes I sent. By the grace of God, and the Universe, I was able to land a gig at a local startup. HERd was named by Fortune 500 as a startup on the rise, focused on the now profitable female entrepreneur scene.
Over the past year, I spent my life in countless Facebook groups going from Blogging, to working for a popular Money Coach, and then starting my volatile Web Design Business. After yet another client who felt the need to insult me, totaling around $5,000 in costly business mistakes, I deleted my page and decided a semi corporate gig was the change I needed.
I chuckled as the thought of one, who sent me a voicemail saying that I was an enemy of women, was ironic, being that I'm now the head of the marketing department for a leader in the business. But it's what I do, respectfully bow out, or vanish for lack of a better word, and re-appear when I think I've learned my lesson. And after everything has blown over. And after I finished paying people back.
I shook my head, choosing to think about how I was now fulfilling my insatiable need to help people. It's the major thing that I was missing in my own business, discouraged every time I faced negative feedback.
Sure it wasn't the comments that made me upset, fonts could be changed and colors altered, but surely I could be doing more than just that- right?
So vie so. Such is life.
I made my way to my newly acquired car, pausing for a moment to once again take in a familiar scene of civilization. Although Bismarck was the capital of North Dakota, the most thrilling or bustling sight were the 6 worn-down brick bars and 4 slightly more trendy boutiques that compromised of downtown. Oh! And there was one 4 way intersection. But, no one even heard of the city, let alone could make it out on a map. I'd lived South of Atlanta for 11 years and in the city a year before the big step backwards. One thing I can say now is that I owe my newfound Atlanta appreciation to good old' Bismarck. That and my devotion to good, flavorful, seasoned food. And un-moldy fruit, of course.
Atlanta had changed since I'd been back, in some ways. In most, it had stayed the same. Outside of my office, there were new, larger glass buildings for the rapidly expanding tech startup scene. You could still see the cultural mix of people from diverse backgrounds make their way along Peachtree street. Families walking with strollers in the parks, dogs running around, and business people as they exited their elite office buildings. The tantalizing aroma of southern food drifted towards me as I continued my steady pace, suddenly remembering that I hadn't eaten. Much.
Not that I didn't have lunch or lack of food- the office kept a steady supply of healthy snacks as well as flowing local beer on tap. Part of me wondered why it wasn't wine, as the beer started as a bro-culture thing within silicon valley businesses. The image of my bubbly co-workers bubbly with wine floated through my head. I could see them laughing over sending an unintentionally harsh and sorority level passive aggressive email, as well as tweets as petty as Donald Trump's. Now that would be even more interesting.
As I neared my car, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something. I hate this feeling. I toss back in forth between my head, wondering if I'm just being paranoid or if its my intuition/spirit team kicking in and trying to save my ass. Worst case scenario, I lose something and it gets stolen or lost. Especially since it's Friday, Just like my wallet a few months back...
Yeah, I'm heading back inside.
Briskly, I did a 180 back in the direction of my new favorite building, trying not to bump into both speed-walking large men with suitcases and slowly paced families with take-out bags. 'Excuse me! Sorry!' I repeated, making my way through the crowds. There are way too many people on this street right now. And cars to play Frogger with. Anxiously, I zipped between empty spaces ducking and turning just in time to make it back to my office.
As soon as I opened the door, a wave of relief washed over me and my eyes sunk in the quiet and stillness of the open and modern office beyond my eyes. I took my time making my way back to my computer, looking in fondness for the bean bag chairs and feminine styled desks of my colleagues.
My packet was in the same space I left it, with my phone sitting right underneath. How convenient.
I quickly grabbed my belongings, saving the beer and food for tomorrow, and made my way back to the door. This was the only workplace I felt a sense of belonging in. A place I actually wanted to come to work in the mornings and was excited to sit and work on new projects at. Other than my own home of course, but this was just as exciting. And considerably safer, being as I couldn't get sued. Heh.
I opened the door, closing my eyes to say a silent prayer. My spirit team were the only "people" who looked out for me, and gratitude pays off in more ways than one. And I owed them- big time. Trying not to look to weird, I kept moving. Except, this time everything seemed to slow down to a fraction of a second.
Everything happened so quickly and slowly at the same time. It was as if time caught up to me when I realized that the door met with a large and beautiful man on the other side. His statue, reminding me that of an unreal mix of a Greek God and that of a lumberjack. Perhaps a dark-haired and civil looking Tarzan, if you will. One thing was different, he seemed equally stunned to see me as I was him.
"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?" I said as words finally caught up with me and I assessed my new situation of hitting this hunk of a man with a very intriguing smelling bag of food. Instantly regretting my decision to skimp on the free food back inside.
"I'm alright," the large man, with a deep voice said. "I can't say the same for my leftovers." Though his words didn't allude to it, I could see a small smile on his lips and his eyes seemed light. Friendly, even.
"I didn't see you on the other side, sorry," I started bending down to help him clean up the mess, partially mortified that I'd caused it and also grateful that I was able to have even a casual encounter with an attractive member of the opposite sex. It'd been far too long.
His dark green eyes accompanied with his widening sly smile told me he was amused. "I'd be more surprised if you could see with your eyes closed, but this street is a little crowded so." He took a look around, nodding towards a fragile woman, at least in her late 80s, making her way down the street, "I'm just happy you didn't hit that old lady carrying her purse."
Matching his friendly demeanor, I decided to continue the joke. "Maybe that's what I do for a living, you know there are quite a few weird jobs out there. Especially in Atlanta." I said. It seemed to make the man smile.
"I would definitely take up a job where I could just close my eyes and blindly open doors all day, especially if I could return the favor," he said. I could see the twinkle in his eye when he talked. He was not afraid to hold eye-contact. So the man was flirting back, I smirked. I could handle a little playful banter. Careful not to get too worked up, I wanted to disregard it as a little bit of Southern Hospitality. Either that or a naturally flirtatious demeanor.
