It’s true. Life seems so difficult and confusing when you’re a teenager. You have no idea what’s ahead. The complications, the compromises, the loss, the reality of life and work and making a living. I look back and think about how carefree and unencumbered I was in high school. Did I feel that way? Hell no. I was confused and conflicted and I was sure that life couldn’t get any harder.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a positive high school experience. You won’t hear me complaining about bullying or hardships during that time (middle school was a different story.) Those were my years of total freedom. The first time I spoke honestly about who I was and where I came from. The first time I dressed and talked the way I wanted to. I made real friends — people who I liked and liked me back. I sang, I danced, I did theater, I lived at my friends houses and I took every honors class I could. It was a magical moment. Of course I didn’t realize it at the time.
I ran into my old boss today. A woman so kind and so lovely, not to mention beautiful and elegant and brilliant and…am I gushing? Well, she’s gush-able. Annabel. Even her name conjures up images of gorgeous, stylish Brits doesn’t it? No, perhaps that’s just me. Well, she is exquisite and brilliant and so much more. Anyhow, she was my first “real” boss at my first “real” job. I’d worked in restaurants and coffee shops, tutored, babysat, interned, etcetera. But, this was my first salaried position. My first job that provided health insurance. It was a big deal.
And, of course, for this reason — I had no idea how good I had it. I was full of unjustified indignation. I knew my boss was amazing. But, the job itself left much to be desired. It was an entry-level job and it was in a boutique in Soho and I didn’t care about what we were selling and I didn’t care about the rich and famous people buying it. I worked with people who were shallow and lazy and egotistical — the worst kind of colleagues. And, I felt overworked and I looked around at these idiots making commission and jerking off in between customers and just felt taken advantage of. Really, I was bored out of my mind and completely unsatisfied. As it turns out, meaningful work is pretty important to my overall happiness.
The truth is, the job was incredible. I showed up to work at 10:30. We went out to fabulous dinners at restaurants I would never have been able to set foot in otherwise. We drank fancy, overpriced cocktails in fancy, overpriced bars. Secret, exclusive bars that would have taken one look at me and escorted me out had I not been under Annabel’s opulent wing. We threw fabulous parties and ordered artisanal coffee every morning. I had it good.
So, what did I do? I complained, I rolled my eyes, I wrote passive aggressive emails about keeping office supplies organized. I talked shit about all the employees and ate more than my fair share of office snacks so I could feel like I was sticking it to…someone. I took long breaks and longer lunches. I showed up hungover and spent hours browsing Facebook. I was an ungrateful little shit.
I was lying on a random beach (that I’d never before been to) in East Hampton (which I would ordinarily have no reason to be in) and who should come walking by? Annabel! Annabel in all her glory. White-blond hair, fresh, freckled face, pink lips, oversized sunglasses, a wide-rimmed floppy hat, a perfectly fitted jet black suit and three gorgeous kids in tow. Annabel, the hard-partying, I’m not sure I ever want to have kids woman I knew over ten years ago. Still as sweet and charming as she was then.
“Annabel!” I screamed as I realized who the owner of the tight butt I’d been admiring was attached to.
“Treacle! How are you?” she responded in that raspy, part-posh, part-country accent that both excites me and sets me right at ease. “It’s been…it’s been a long time. These are my rascals. Rugrats, she’s a teacher. Better behave. Say hello.” Each sweet, bright-eyed and far too well-behaved child said a quaint “hello” one after the other. As if rehearsed. “I”m in a bit of a rush. Must pick Soph up at the train station. You remember her? Anyhow, please email me. I miss you. I’d love to catch up.”
“Sure. Yes. Absolutely. I just wanted to say, I suck,” I blurted out.
“What?!” she asked.
“I mean, I was just talking about what an ungrateful shit I was when I worked for you. And, I just wanted to say that you were an incredible boss and I had it so good back then. And, I realize that.”
“Sweetie, I know,” she said.
“But…”
“I know,” she repeated. “You let me know then. You were so sweet and a wonderful employee. I adored you. We all did,” she smiled. That smile that makes men drool as she passes.
“I wasn’t. You’re too generous but, okay. Go. I’ll email you. We’ll catch up,” I said. She thanked me and then scooted off, husband and kids trailing behind her. Up over the mountain of sand and into the bright sun.
And, she was gone.
This is a post that has mostly turned into a love letter to an old boss. Who is deserving of said love (which, will perhaps be the subject of a different post). But, it’s mostly a post about not knowing what you have when you have it. I think that’s worth remembering. Because, I know that I will look back on these days and think, Shit, I had it good then. One kid and the freedom that provided. Living in New York, taking trips up to the Hamptons. I thought life was so hard. Look at me now.
So, here’s to not knowing what you have. But, at least trying to. Here’s to recognizing that life gets both easier and harder. But, whatever the case, the past will always look pretty damn good with a little perspective and a lot more experience. Here’s to being young and wanting to be older. To being old and wanting to be younger. And, here’s to Annabel.