Well that means if we split it up into seasons, we could consider the final quater of those the 'Winter Years'. And with me turning thirty-six at the end of this August; it means my 'Summer Years' are nearing their end.
This is not a complaint about getting older. Nor am I dipping into the powerful drug of Nostalgia. Instead I'm applying this to my current situation.
Since last week I have attended a trial shift at a well-known soap store. Before being offered a job at well-known soap store. Yet in-between this, I was offered a job at another company. And while the pay wasn't particularly greater; the set-up may work to my current period in life. Better than the well-known soap store.
Within the thirty minutes at the well-known soap store trial shift; I found myself circling. To engage with customers. To let them know I was there. To help demonstrate all the products. And maybe this was part of the issue. At my previous job, my presence was always noted. I'd be the most approachable of persons. Even to the point where some customers would mistake me for manager. I had been there so long I suppose my comfort in the surroundings lent me a degree of confidence. As such customers would gravitate towards me to help solve more complex issues. Something to be proud of. I can be a reliable source of information and flexible in problem solving. Even rereading that line makes me realise how much I've been focusing on CV writing of late.
The well-known soap store's employee basis all seemed in the mid to early twenties. Again this is not a complaint. What I've discovered however is that my priorities are dramatically different. I have no real need to socialise with my co-workers. Heck I've spent the majority of the last five years trying to seek a life AWAY from work.
So it was with a hint of sorrow that I had to decline the offer at the well-known soap store. Have I done the right thing? I'll let you know at the end of August.
The true end of summer.
On the notions of sunlit evening skies ending; I'm having to relearn another lesson.
Letting go.
Back in 2009 I had the worst summer break imaginable. After an incredibly sorrowful and heartbreaking year at University; I got home to my siblings who fell out with me and my part-time job that was horribly mundane. Add that with constant reminders of how other's lives seemed better; I was in disbelief how everything had just turned against me. And all I felt I was doing was trying to assert my place in the world. (In hindsight this probably ruffled feathers because I was considered to already be put in my place due to how others saw fit. And that's even more horrible.) The only things that kept me going that summer was the inevitable return to Leicester for my final year at University. And my friends Claire and Natasha. Naturally we spent as much time at the cinema as we could. The sun may have been shining but our pale skin wanted to soak in celluloid.
When the first lockdown hit in 2020, I was placed on furlough. For over four full months I had the finances and excuse to enjoy time alone. The weather was pleasant. My book collection was ready. Many DVDs that my parents had bought over the years were consulted. This is exactly how I would have spent a frugal summer as a teenager.
The first lockdown was the summer I never had. So when the second Autumn lockdown came along I felt prepared for it. And when the third winter lockdown started; I knew I'd be fine. Although the latter was difficult. The novelty of free time had disappeared. And trying to read heavy volumes one after the other became a task when the weather was so grim. I needed bright cartoons and soup to see me through.
Yet since the beginning of March 2020, I have only been in work for around forty-five weeks. I have gotten used to free time all too easily over this period. And I have to admit that my accepting of this new job has been difficult. Initially I've been nervous. Scared that I may have chosen the wrong role. Concerned I may be giving up my soul too easily for a monthly pay. And unsure if I have what it takes to carry on.
"You look like your soul is crushed," said my friend Ciatriona. We were sitting in Belfast's new cosy bar; The Reporter, found on Union Street. Scented candle-light between us. The two of us have been living with our parents. And together we discovered the niggling things they can say that try to sway us into work all too quickly. We agreed that it comes from a good place. Yet within ourselves, youth maybe wants to strike the balance of security and potential. But it also fears that if we select one, the other will be out of reach. I know there will be those who also debate that if you don't choose one; it'll be chosen for you. And that can be even worse.
The point I'm trying to make here is that I'm sensing my own End of Summer. In the next few days I may be able to translate it in my own head towards excitement and the beginning of a new chapter. Yet because I've had such an extended summer; I am simply scared that it has to end.
On the plus side; I've also carried lessons from my previous jobs to bring with me. These include (and are not limited to) making sure I don't invest my entire being into this role. It's great that I'm getting into employment; it does not mean I'm getting into a rut. And I can change things. If I find I'm not happy I can change things. Not just make the best of things; that only works so far. No; an active shifting of my surroundings, the people I draw attitudes from and, by extension, a whole lookout; none of these should be set in stone.
