It Comes From the Heart

As things get tough, at some point you think - well, it really can't get much worse, can it? I have my health, I have my friends, and I live in one of the greatest and most admired (and/or hated) cities in the world, at the heart of all the action.

But then you wake up early, trying through great inertia to just get some gym clothes on and do a quick 20 minute work out before your lunch meeting with a contact at one of your favorite target companies. Then you decide to put on those flashy Nike sneakers that actually talk to your iPhone. Or at least they're supposed to. You put in the Nike+ sensor, but somehow it's not working. Note to self: another task to distract from the job search - replace that sensor at the Apple store. If they are willing to replace it. Note to self 2: the frustration of having them not replace it could be more worse than the joy of being able to track those workouts.

So at about the same time, you get a text message on the phone that now is *not* willing to be your workout buddy. The person you'd been dating has just decided to reconcile with an ex. In response, you start to tap out: "I'm very happy for you and hope you have a great summer". It's a message that comes from the heart. But so is the OTHER message you almost sent: "thanks for dumping me by text message; you're a douche, and by the way, I hope that tingling feeling ends up being an infection that antibiotics won't cure". See, both messages from the heart - one takes the high road, the other? Much more satisfying. Well, it was only three dates, so what can ya do? No biggie.

But in such matters, no matter what the circumstances, Mister Blister would always opt for the high road, in the high styled tradition of Miss Manners and Carrie Bradshaw (at least SHE got a Post-It). And you still have time to get a good workout in before your networking lunch, which could help re-energize your search and outlook. Just a quick check of email before--

oh CRAP! "Dear Mister Blister, I've had a number of meetings moved around, and am unfortunately not available to meet this week. How does three weeks from next Thursday sound?"

The second response to said ex above may actually apply it this case, but once again...
"Thanks for letting me know. I hope the meetings go well. I certainly look forward to meeting with you in three weeks and sharing information about developments in the industry." Snore. But it comes from the heart. The black heart laboriously lub-dubbing away in the black hole of a pit that is my soul. But it comes from the heart, and that's what's important.

Career options seems to be slimming, and in the far off distance I hear "Peanuts, anyone?" "Would you like chicken or beef?" Chicken or beef? chickenorbeef chknorbeefchknorbeef

xoxo, oh faithful reader - from the heart