The red light district 

This morning, I strategically title my blog to entice a new reader demographic.

I realize this target audience is likely coming home from their respective work schedules, so an increase in blog traffic might be delayed.

Respective. I smile.

Maybe their clientele will read my blog.

Either way, we are going places we haven’t been before.
I’ll admit to nothing.

In the interim, I’m headed towards a familiar place. My big green chariot.

Steve is standing at his usual perch.

He’s wearing sunglasses at 6 in the morning, which makes me wonder if he’s had a rough night, or an awesome one.

After yesterday’s blog, I wonder if people think Steve is my version of Wilson.


If I had to carry around a ball, it would be a basketball and I would call him Spalding.

Imagine how much noise I could make dribbling up in the quiet zone?


Back on the ground level, I exchange pleasantries with Steve, something like “Happy Friday” that seems to be mumbled.

I ask what’s the deal with his sunglasses.

“If I don’t wear them now, I’ll forget them at home!”

I’m about to say something sarcastic but then I curse myself for not wearing sunglasses too.

He steps outside his perch and asks me if I’ve ever noticed the red lights before:

Our very own red light district, minus the Scooby snacks.

I have not.

My observation skills are top shelf.

The red lights mean the doors are open. If he pushes a couple more buttons, the ding dong song plays and they are closed.

I learn a lot about the train from Steve.

The front cab can override all door closing decisions.

And, if the doors get stuck open while in transit, the train will travel at a top speed of 4mph.

I mull this over.

I feel as though I’d have a better shot at running into that train than any of my freight train/80’s movie/coming of age fantasies.

Sastified with his lesson for the day, Steve says: “I’m not looking for people when I’m looking down the platform, I’m looking at the red lights!”

I agree.

Clearly I’m the exception.

Steve asks how long I’ve been riding the train and I haven’t noticed the red lights.

I tell him I’m in the final month of a one year contract.

“So, what happens once your contract is up?!!”

I tell him my most logical theory, the one I started that’s getting the most traction in the office.

There’s a secret eject button that gets pushed and I’m thrown out Rocketeer style into the sky.

He mulls this over.

I add; “I hope they at least place my chair under the skylight before they do that.”

Steve mulls this over.

“Are they gonna keep you?”

The Career Practitioner in me loathes that question.


Like some piece of property one doesn’t know what to do with.

Or a shirt you find while shopping that you didn’t really like, then someone else takes an interest so you buy it anyway.

It’s a loaded question that warrants attention.

If the world were different, if we truly valued our self-worth, emotional intelligence and competency, job seekers would hold the power.

The real question should be: “Are you going to stay?”

Maybe in an alternate universe.

For the time being, I say; “I’m not just some prize to be won!”

Jasmine would be so proud.

But she’s also extremely wealthy and happily not working.

The red lights are about to go off.

Steve asks; “Aren’t you happy you learned something new today?”

I really am.

I almost had no writing material.

“Yeah. Thanks! I’m probably going to blog about it!”

Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, right, because this stuff is so interesting!”

Big smile.


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