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Me too. I put up with crap that I shouldn't put up with. It just makes me work harder, which is not the solution. I think that I need to learn to stay the course. Meaning (in my case) not try to work

Wow! Thankful you didn’t take the bait. 

Ah, this phrase.... it brings back a memory that still cracks me up to this day. When I was in my late 20s, my ex boyfriend and I were interested in paintball. Our interest started while we were

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If Frank ever again says you don't have enough experience, I think it is important for you to correct that perception.

 

And another thing! You know, he's right. I don't have the level of experience that he has, or that Catherine has.

 

I've been doing this for 11 years total, and and for 3.5 of those years I was in school. So I have 7.5 years of practical experience. Because the field of architecture is so broad, it's hard to compare my 7.5 years of experience to another architect's 7.5 years of experience. I spent about 2 years designing and renovating houses, and about 5 years planning civil works projects. Another architect may have spent that same 7.5 year period designing sneeze guards for fast food restaurants, renovating retail outlets, laying out ADA requirements for public bathrooms, or simply serving as the graphic artist for her firm.

 

On top of that, a lot of people's resumes don't accurately state their abilities. Two architects who have put the same amount of work into the same sectors could have completely different levels of comprehension. Architect A may be really smart; Architect B might be really stupid. Architect A could underestimate her ability and Architect B could overestimate her ability, or vice versa. It's hard to predict what you're actually going to get when you hire two architects with the same level experience.

 

The number one priority of this discipline is life safety. So when you hire someone like me, you pretty much have to assume that I am a self-aggrandizing CAD monkey. That is what is happening here to some extent. I understand that and agree with it to the extent that you are not putting yourself or the general public at risk.

 

But here we have been delving deep into the realm of blockheaded closed-mindedness. This is resulting in a failure to observe and assess the actual situation. Frank simply cannot comprehend the possibility that someone with my limited experience is able to see him and Catherine making mistakes. Catherine is also telling him that everything is going awesomely with the project. So he comes up with excuses like, "Jibralta is just fixating on the details. She doesn't understand the big picture." I might as well be telling him that the boogieman is making coffee in the kitchen.

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Yesterday at work was great. Frank took on a lot of the tasks, I had someone to help me, and I had time to get some stuff done. Today was not so great. Frank was less invested in this project. He heaped more tasks on me and I'm not even done with the things I need to get done. The guy that's helping me got pulled onto another project. I have to tell Frank that I don't have enough time, but I am not looking forward to hearing his useless opinions about Revit. That is a tough gap to bridge with the Luddites.

 

Frank promised the client these drawings by Friday without talking to any of the engineers. The plumbing revisions are a lot more complicated than anyone realized.

 

I was so happy yesterday and so stressed today. I wish I could stop caring, but I can't. Frickin sucks.

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I think I know the source of my insomnia: Zyrtec. I didn't really suspect it because antihistamines usually make me drowsy, if anything. But tonight is like the fifth night in a row where I've felt like this. And it really feels drug-induced, very similar to the way I felt when I took the steroids last fall. It actually feels like something is keeping me up, yet I don't feel like I am in an altered state. Like, there is no high to enjoy. haha.

 

So, I googled it and the AARP lists actually lists cetirizine as one of ten medications that can cause insomnia. It's especially weird because this is the second bottle of Zyrtec that I am taking, and I didn't experience these side effects with the first bottle. I don't know if the formulas could be slightly different? The first bottle was tablets and this bottle is liquid gels. It's just weird. But most of all, it's annoying. And highly inconvenient at this particular point in my life.

 

Currently taking Zyrtec and it makes me sleepy. But everyone is different.

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Well, this week has been tough. Not completely terrible, though. Catherine's been on vacation and I've had to work with Frank and his wildly fluctuating personality. One minute everything is great and I'm awesome. The next minute he's giving me all of his negative opinions about my software and questioning my competence. I'm starting to think that he just has mood swings. But it's still hard to disregard what he says, especially when he makes criticisms--especially when I know they're the result of misinformation, ignorance, and misunderstanding.

 

One way that I have been handling him is by dragging an engineer along with me when I go to his office. That way we can team up on him when he attempts to poo-poo the seriousness of an issue. But even that tactic isn't bulletproof. I can tell he's already forgotten a big issue with the brick wall in the front of the building.

 

He never should have promised these drawings to the client by close of business tomorrow. He did it before he ever truly looked at the set and talked to the engineers in depth. In fact, this afternoon is the first time I've ever seen him concentrate by himself on marking up the set. The last two times he started delving into the set, he had two or three other people with him and I could see that our presence was distracting him. But it's not my place to point that out and he would never admit it anyway. He's too busy talking about how easy all of this is for him and how quickly he could do this set. Of course, when the client called him today and chewed him out, his first comment to me was that it was an extremely complicated building (2 three-story townhouse buildings with 24 levels a piece and 10 buildings with a more straightforward design)--and that their expectations were totally unrealistic!!

 

However, in the middle of all this stress, a nice thing happened today: The QC guy, who is old-school and very set in his ways, called me a "very talented architect" loudly and repeatedly when I was in the engineering department. I think he did that because he feels bad about the dismal status of my project. But either way I don't think he would have said that if he felt that I was a lost cause!

 

After weeks of working alone, I am finally getting consistent help. But since my helper hasn't been with me from the start, a lot of his assistance causes trouble in other areas of my drawings. It's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault. It's just what happens when no one's actually truly running the project. I am trying to keep him informed, but I can only do so much. Tomorrow, starting at noon, I am on vacation. I don't care what they do with the set after that.

 

The frustrating thing is that all of this could have been avoided if people had taken the time to double check their research. It appears that Catherine made a couple big mistakes in her code analysis and in the organization of this project. She's undoubtedly going to get a big bag of sh*t for this when she gets back... what if she turns around and blames me? Well, I've been documenting everything, but you still never know. I'm still relatively new to the company. They do seem like decent, normal people. And I am told that there is a big QC problem in general, and that this situation is sort of plaguing the company. But I just don't know how things go here, and that's nerve-wracking. I have this deep seated fear that when I'm away they will all throw me under the bus and blame me for all of these problems. I'd like to think I'm just being paranoid, but I don't know for sure.

 

Ughh, I can't believe Catherine kept insisting that everything was going to be fine. She did it right up until the sh*t hit the fan. It's really unbelievable.

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  • 2 weeks later...

So, at work, the hierarchy above me is Catherine, then Frank, and then there are four principals. I think I am going to write an email to one of the principals and explain the chaos I've been seeing at work. I really fear for myself in this situation, where one boss has her head in the sand and the other is blind. I feel like a sacrificial lamb.

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I wrote a longass email to the aforementioned principal (Mark) last night. I started working on it at around 6PM, took some time off for fantasy football team selection, then completed and finally sent the email at about 11:30. Then I obsessively thought about my job for 4 more hours, instead of sleeping. So much for not taking my work home with me anymore.

 

I guess the breaking point for me was my vacation. After a frantic week spent trying to fix the disaster we'd created, I careened into my vacation at a million miles an hour. I couldn't stop thinking about work for the first three days. On the drive down, I felt sure I was going to be fired. I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about work. I did start to relax by the middle of the week, but I couldn't sleep again on Friday night, knowing that work was right around the corner.

 

I managed to keep my mind off of it for the remainder of my days off. But the moment I got back to work yesterday, I turned into a basket case again. All work on the project had ceased while I was away. I was pissed. I knew then that the only way things could possibly get better would be if I went above Catherine and Frank.

 

In my email, I told Mark that I have been raising the alarm about this project for a good 2 months, but that Catherine and Frank do not take me seriously. Catherine irrationally praises everything that I do. Frank thinks that I am a detail-obsessed, know-it-all nitwit who refuses to ask other people for help. I went into detail about the negative things that Frank has said to me during the last three months.

 

I informed Mark that I had worked the equivalent of eighteen 40-hour weeks in a fifteen week period, only to find out that half of the work was completely unnecessary. Part of the reason this happened, I explained, was because Catherine heaped additional work on me in an effort to avoid making decisions (sort of like changing the subject). I included a chart that graphed my overtime hours against my regular hours each week, and advised him that he could verify this information in his billing system.

 

I explained my worry that Frank's negative opinion of me, unfounded though I felt it was, could damage my reputation with my coworkers and the firm's leadership. I also communicated my fear of becoming a sacrificial lamb. In an effort to reestablish my good standing with the firm, I asked to be reassigned to a different PM and associate.

 

Mark got back to me early this morning, thanking me for my honest and detailed email. I spoke with him in his office shortly thereafter. He actually opened the conversation by defending Frank, assuring me that Frank was a nice guy and almost certainly not out to get me. He conceded that Frank sometimes doesn't see the big picture (ha), and that he may not be the best manager. Mark also said that Catherine was falling far short of expectations (she only started a month before me).

 

Mark said that it was probably a mistake to put two brand new people on a huge project with a brand new client. I told him that from day one, I saw that as a major risk that could ultimately spell disaster for me. His defense was that they were extremely busy and short staffed. But at the same time, they had to keep the work coming in to "feed" the new staff (like me). When you turn a client away, he said, they never come back. Then he paused and conceded, "They also never come back if you f*ck up."

 

Overall, the conversation was pretty positive and I left feeling that my efforts were recognized and valued. I feel confident that Mark cares about the welfare of his employees. I think that he wants to keep me on Catherine's team, which sucks. However, by the end of our conversation, he seemed more open to the idea of shifting me around a little bit. So, fingers crossed.

 

Late in the day, the finance guy came up to me and told me he'd read my email and that he agreed with everything I said wholeheartedly. He used that word. He said that I am caught in the middle of Catherine and Frank's politicking, that this isn't my fault, and that everyone knows it and has seen what is going on. That was nice to hear. Only slightly surprising that Mark let him read the email. I had a feeling that a number of managers and admin staff had read it when I arrived in the office today.

 

There's more--apparently Catherine was fired from a previous job for an issue similar to an issue that occurred with this project. But I don't have time to write about that now.

Edited by Jibralta
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Very obfuscated situation. At least you are getting paid well, it's something. It must be pretty frustrating to work with Cathrine and Frank though.

 

I like your signature by the way lol :)

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I like your signature by the way lol :)

 

Thanks :) I cracked up when I overheard that. It's so interestingly true. I never saw the person who said it. She/he was sitting in the row behind me, remarking to a companion. I think it may have been an older woman who had some sort of illness, but I don't know for sure. The voice was gender-neutral, with a slightly southern accent.

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I remember that as a kid, I saw opportunity every time an adult underestimated me. It was something I could take advantage of. That part of my life was all about bucking authority and getting away with stuff. So it was beneficial to let people think that I wasn't as smart as I really was.

 

As an adult, it is inconvenient.

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I took a mental health day from work today. But I am still thinking of it, of course.

 

I mentioned yesterday that I learned Catherine had been fired from a previous job.

 

I learned this on Tuesday, when she told me that Mark reprimanded her for the project's dismal status. Catherine told me that she just sat there and took the blame for something that was really Frank's error: zoning and code.

 

I said, "Why didn't you just tell him it was Frank's error."

 

Catherine said, "At this level, it's what you have to do."

 

Yeah, right. Nice advice, you pompous ass.

 

She went on to tell me that she got fired from a previous job in NY, after taking the blame for someone else. She said that she'd drawn a building according to renderings that she'd been given. The renderings did not show that the topography for the site was bowl-shaped, where the outer edges of the site sloped upward.

 

When the client went to the site and stood at the 'rim' of the 'bowl,' it became evident that the renovations would be visible from that point. The violated one of the main project requirements, as the renovation was supposed to be completely hidden from view when looking at the building from the edge of the site.

 

The renovation had to be redesigned. The redesign was a $2 million expense to Catherine's firm. Catherine was called into a meeting with the bosses of the company. She said, "It wasn't my fault." They said, "We know, but someone has to take the fall." So they fired her.

 

At least, that's her version of things. She obviously doesn't see how she was responsible, which is amazing to me.

 

First of all, a 'rendering' is just a pretty picture designed to sell a building. It doesn't have any construction value, except perhaps to show where certain materials and colors should go AFTER THE BUILDING IS BUILT.

 

No architect, engineer, or builder expects a rendering to contain accurate information. Why in the world did she?

 

She should have gotten a survey or a civil set and analyzed the topography. This information is available, often from cities and townships for a nominal fee, and sometimes for free! And if it's not available, it MUST be obtained.

 

In my mind, this was negligence on Catherine's part. She was absolutely responsible for the demise of that project.

 

What's even more astounding is that she didn't learn from her mistakes. On my first day at this company Catherine handed me a set of drawings along with part of a civil set. The first thing I did was look at the lot and analyze the topography. Until that point, nobody had any idea that the buildings were being built at different levels! I created a little diagram that summarized the condition. Everyone wanted a copy of it.

 

And then it was like someone flipped a switch. I was no longer looped into client emails. I interfaced with Catherine about everything. And nothing got resolved.

Edited by Capricorn3
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I was thinking of a way to explain why Frank's criticism is not helpful, and would not be helpful even if it was accurate.

 

Imagine you're a regular person with average eye sight. You see a blind lady standing at the edge of a curb on a busy street. It's clear she is going to cross the street, but the traffic is an obstacle. Do you walk over to her and

 

A) help her across the road, or

 

B) tell her that she's blind, that you have awesome eyesight, that you could cross the road any time you want, that you want to help her cross, but are too busy right now so if she reminds you again on Monday, you will definitely help her and it will take two seconds because you are awesome at this kind of thing?

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I recently had a fond memory of my old job.

 

One night I was staying late, trying to finish up a report for a major deadline. I was kind of annoyed because this got thrown on my lap, and I was in this situation because our consultants dragged their feet. Two of my coworkers and my boss were literally standing in my cubicle, feeding me the information that I needed. These were older men, in their 50s and 60s.

 

Just to be clear, nobody was trying to rush me or put pressure on me. The vibe was quite positive. We just all wanted this report to get out, so everyone was super energized.

 

As I sat there trying to finish the report, my boyfriend called my office line. I saw his number on the caller ID and I ignored it because my boss was talking to me at that moment. Minutes later, my boyfriend called my cell phone. I excused myself and said, "Hey, I'm still at work can I call you in a couple of minutes?"

 

My boyfriend said, "I just tried calling you there and you didn't pick up."

 

I said, "I KNOW. I SAW IT ON THE CALLED ID."

 

Behind me, I heard my boss and coworkers giggle like school girls and scurry out of my cubicle. That struck me as so funny. A bunch of middle aged men fleeing from my temper. Ha ha.

 

They were so awesome. I hope they are doing well.

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This week at work.... so far, so good. I've been working on short, easy jobs for Frank. Just getting stuff out the door.

 

Catherine was out sick yesterday. She came in late today, and seemed to have left early today as well. The less I have to deal with her, the better.

 

Now that the project can be officially recognized as a disaster, the thought of her just makes me angry. She punted responsibility time and time again, and let me bust my ass while she did it. So aggravating.

 

Another thing: I hate how she lurks around my desk. Last week, she came over for no reason, said, "Hi," and then just stood there looking over my shoulder. I wasn't working on anything for her.

 

Whenever this happens, I just sort of state out loud everything that I'm doing because it's uncomfortable to have someone silently standing behind you for no reason. Weeks ago, we could have said it was the project we were on, but now there's literally no reason and it's awkward.

 

So last week, she's standing there, and I say, "Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out a good distance between this cashier's counter and the wall. I think 4 feet is good." She says, "Make it 2 feet."

 

I'm like "How will they get past each other back there?" She said, "As long as it's open on both ends, it's fine."

 

She's so full of sh*t, but I made the change because get the f*ck out of my cubicle and be gone.

 

About a half hour later, Frank comes over and looks at my layout. He says, "Just make sure you have 3 - 4 feet behind the counter there." I was like, "THANK you."

 

Frank heard back from our unhappy client and they're still unhappy after our second submission. Unsurprised over here. I hate to say it, but I hope that project dies altogether. I hope I never have to work for Catherine again.

 

Working for Frank is ok, but he's sort of a clown. I'd really rather work for this other principal..... We'll see what happens.

 

But this week... so far, so good. Hope it stays like this!!!

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Arnold does so much for me, and I often hesitate to talk about it with other people. I hesitate because in many ways he takes a woman's role and I don't want to emasculate him to others. For the record, Arnold is completely comfortable with his 'feminine' role, and if you want to challenge him about it, I guarantee that you're the one who will walk away feeling weird about yourself. But even so, I feel protective of him in this particular aspect of our lives even as I learn to recognize how undervalued the traditional woman's role truly is. I realize the irony of this sentiment, particularly in the sociological climate of the last 40 years.

 

Arnold does all of the cooking, the dish washing, the laundry, the food shopping, and much of the cleaning. He plans all of my meals, prepares them, divvies them up for the week, and packs my lunch every day. When I wake up in the morning, my coffee is ready for me. When I get home, he unpacks my lunch bag and puts everything in the dishwasher or washes it out. If he is home before me, he prepares my dinner. If not, I microwave a meal that he prepared for me in advance. He keeps the kitchen and the refrigerator clean and organized.

 

Before Arnold assumed these duties, I cooked, cleaned, and shopped for myself. I did all of the laundry. I did these chores for years. On top of my long work week, they were exhausting.

 

Things changed about two years ago, when I started preparing for my licensing exams. I had seven tests to pass, and five years to pass them all or I'd have to start again from square one. That meant I had to get through all of them as quickly as possible, to make time for possible re-takes. I had to devote basically every waking moment outside of work to studying, and this is when Arnold began to take responsibility for all of the chores. He made sure that all I had to worry about was eating, sleeping, working, and studying.

 

If he hadn't taken up the slack, half of my brain would have been distracted from my studies at all times, trying to plan a shopping list or worrying about cleaning the dishes, etc. Because of Arnold's support, I didn't worry about any of these things and I managed to pass all seven tests within a year. After my exams ended, Arnold kept doing the chores. His reasoning was( and still is) that he has a lot more free time in his day than I do. He can do the chores and still spend hours schmoozing around playing video games and whatever.

 

I remember talking to my former coworker, Ben, about passing all of the tests. Ben hadn't passed the tests and he'd been at it a lot longer than me. I said, "If it wasn't for Arnold, I never would have been able to do this." Ben perked up and said, "Oh yeah? How did he help you?" I think he expected me to say that Arnold was an architect who already knew all of the answers, and that he guided me through the process. Ben did not seem to know how to react when I said, "Well, Arnold did all of the dishes and the laundry, and cooked my meals..." People simply don't appreciate how powerful this kind of support is.

 

While I was studying for my exams, I took an exam prep course. There were about 16 classes over a three month period. Each class was 8 hours. I got to know a couple of the other students. A lot of them were my age, with families. One woman had three kids, and dreaded going home after class ended because she still had to prepare dinner and do the laundry. Her husband stayed home to watch the kids while she was in class, but he didn't do housework. He played video games.

 

I really sympathized with her because I knew how much weight had been lifted from my shoulders when Arnold started taking responsibility for the chores. I wanted to tell her about it, but I bit my tongue. I knew it would just make her feel worse. So, that's another reason why I don't talk about it much.

 

I appreciate Arnold so much. I tell him this, but I also want to scream it to the sky. Arnold is the most supportive person that I have in my life. He made it possible for me to focus on my studies and pass my exams. He makes it possible for me to relax after a long day at work. On top of this, he is my best friend and we enjoy life together. Having Arnold in my life has improved the quality of my life immeasurably. I am so grateful.

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It’s really sad that these glances come usually from strangers that you will never see again in your life. It would be nice to know what the result would have been under different circumstances. I can only dream the outcome….

 

I keep forgetting to post this. Dias's "missed connection" reminded me of something I saw years ago, I guess in the Huffington Post (which I rarely pay attention to). It's a missed connection from Craigslist. It's obviously made-up, but I love the surreal, haunting nature of the story:

 

I saw you on the Manhattan-bound Brooklyn Q train.

 

I was wearing a blue-striped t-shirt and a pair of maroon pants. You were wearing a vintage red skirt and a smart white blouse. We both wore glasses. I guess we still do.

 

You got on at DeKalb and sat across from me and we made eye contact, briefly. I fell in love with you a little bit, in that stupid way where you completely make up a fictional version of the person you’re looking at and fall in love with that person. But still I think there was something there.

 

Several times we looked at each other and then looked away. I tried to think of something to say to you — maybe pretend I didn’t know where I was going and ask you for directions or say something nice about your boot-shaped earrings, or just say, “Hot day.” It all seemed so stupid.

 

At one point, I caught you staring at me and you immediately averted your eyes. You pulled a book out of your bag and started reading it — a biography of Lyndon Johnson — but I noticed you never once turned a page.

 

My stop was Union Square, but at Union Square I decided to stay on, rationalizing that I could just as easily transfer to the 7 at 42nd Street, but then I didn’t get off at 42nd Street either. You must have missed your stop as well, because when we got all the way to the end of the line at Ditmars, we both just sat there in the car, waiting.

 

I cocked my head at you inquisitively. You shrugged and held up your book as if that was the reason.

 

Still I said nothing.

 

We took the train all the way back down — down through Astoria, across the East River, weaving through midtown, from Times Square to Herald Square to Union Square, under SoHo and Chinatown, up across the bridge back into Brooklyn, past Barclays and Prospect Park, past Flatbush and Midwood and Sheepshead Bay, all the way to Coney Island. And when we got to Coney Island, I knew I had to say something.

 

Still I said nothing.

 

And so we went back up.

 

Up and down the Q line, over and over. We caught the rush hour crowds and then saw them thin out again. We watched the sun set over Manhattan as we crossed the East River. I gave myself deadlines: I’ll talk to her before Newkirk; I’ll talk to her before Canal. Still I remained silent.

 

For months we sat on the train saying nothing to each other. We survived on bags of skittles sold to us by kids raising money for their basketball teams. We must have heard a million mariachi bands, had our faces nearly kicked in by a hundred thousand break dancers. I gave money to the beggars until I ran out of singles. When the train went above ground I’d get text messages and voicemails (“Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?”) until my phone ran out of battery.

 

I’ll talk to her before daybreak; I’ll talk to her before Tuesday. The longer I waited, the harder it got. What could I possibly say to you now, now that we’ve passed this same station for the hundredth time? Maybe if I could go back to the first time the Q switched over to the local R line for the weekend, I could have said, “Well, this is inconvenient,” but I couldn’t very well say it now, could I? I would kick myself for days after every time you sneezed — why hadn’t I said “Bless You”? That tiny gesture could have been enough to pivot us into a conversation, but here in stupid silence still we sat.

 

There were nights when we were the only two souls in the car, perhaps even on the whole train, and even then I felt self-conscious about bothering you. She’s reading her book, I thought, she doesn’t want to talk to me. Still, there were moments when I felt a connection. Someone would shout something crazy about Jesus and we’d immediately look at each other to register our reactions. A couple of teenagers would exit, holding hands, and we’d both think: Young Love.

 

For sixty years, we sat in that car, just barely pretending not to notice each other. I got to know you so well, if only peripherally. I memorized the folds of your body, the contours of your face, the patterns of your breath. I saw you cry once after you’d glanced at a neighbor’s newspaper. I wondered if you were crying about something specific, or just the general passage of time, so unnoticeable until suddenly noticeable. I wanted to comfort you, wrap my arms around you, assure you I knew everything would be fine, but it felt too familiar; I stayed glued to my seat.

 

One day, in the middle of the afternoon, you stood up as the train pulled into Queensboro Plaza. It was difficult for you, this simple task of standing up, you hadn’t done it in sixty years. Holding onto the rails, you managed to get yourself to the door. You hesitated briefly there, perhaps waiting for me to say something, giving me one last chance to stop you, but rather than spit out a lifetime of suppressed almost-conversations I said nothing, and I watched you slip out between the closing sliding doors.

 

It took me a few more stops before I realized you were really gone. I kept waiting for you to reenter the subway car, sit down next to me, rest your head on my shoulder. Nothing would be said. Nothing would need to be said.

 

When the train returned to Queensboro Plaza, I craned my neck as we entered the station. Perhaps you were there, on the platform, still waiting. Perhaps I would see you, smiling and bright, your long gray hair waving in the wind from the oncoming train.

 

But no, you were gone. And I realized most likely I would never see you again. And I thought about how amazing it is that you can know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all.

 

I stayed on the train until it got to Union Square, at which point I got off and transferred to the L.

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You see Jibs, I actually talked to one of these 3(now 4) girls that I still remember. I was 19, I was in the Navy at the time and I was on the train (again lol). It was a 17 years old girl( yeah yeah I know in the USA it’s a big deal to like a 17 years old girl when you are 19 but in Greece is the most natural thing) and she was on the phone, talking to a friend about school exams. She was about to enter the final year of high school and the final exams are extremely difficult if you want to get into a serious university. I was sitting two-three seats away and I overheard the conversation. I simply asked her "are you talking about the exams?". We talked for about 20 minutes and the conversation flowed so easily like we were childhood friends. And there was plenty of attraction of course. When we got off the train at the same stop, I asked her “are you going that way? “ and she said no I go that way but her eyes and her body language were telling me "come with me"- like inviting me, can’t describe it. See, at 19 I was shy and although I made the first step I didn't follow through. Regrets.. regrets…

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I've been stuck in a YouTube hole all day, watching documentaries about psychopaths and serial killers. I used to think of serial killers as highly organized and disciplined, but I've come to see that they are often extremely impulsive, and that luck probably plays a big part in why they escape detection for so long. I think that ordinary people aren't prepared for the reality of murder or kidnapping and tend to rationalize a lot of odd things.

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