The Garden’s green, green grass

The Garden’s green, green grass

The other day, on my way to work, I bumped into a neighbour. “So you've got yourself a new job?” , he asked, and I went on and explained how I now work very long hours for little money, but at least I like what I do. 

“Well, that’s the way it always is. You just can’t have it all”. 

And I was going to agree, because this is what you do when people tell you standard clichéd bullshit; you just agree. But I just couldn't shut up, so I said the truth instead. 

“Bueno… You can have it all, actually. I used to.” 

And that’s true. I once had the perfect job. And now that I've said this, you’ll think this is a “grass is always greener on the other side” situation, which would be an appropriate metaphor, given my work place was called The Garden. You might choose not to believe me when I tell you that it is not the case. The thing is, I always knew it was the best job I’d ever had. I knew it before I even worked there, and I knew it when I applied for it, and I knew it when I first started, and the 20 months I worked there. I knew it the day they called me to say it was closing, and I still know it today, months after it shut down.  I'm not saying I never had bad days, that I never once complained about it and that every minute there was exciting and amazing. But I was always grateful and appreciative, because no matter how boring it becomes to work “the world’s best job”, well, it is your dream job after all and you’d be a fool to not appreciate it.

I didn't tell too many people at first. I thought I did not want compassion. But compassion is scarce these days, and I began craving a simple “Wow, that sucks”, instead of the bullshit I had to put up with. 

 “Something better will come along!” ,they said, one after the other, after I finally admitted to being jobless. 

“Everything happens for a reason”. 

“A little change is always good, you just wait and see”. 

And boy, did I wait, but let me tell you; I didn't see much at all. I saw job offers without legal contracts. I saw that other places pay a lot less to work in much worse conditions. And I saw that my money was running out and I’d better get a grip. So I found myself a new job, and here I am, back behind the reception desk, my new boss lighting cigarettes in my face, trying to convince me that working 36 hours straight really isn't so bad. 

And through the cloud of smoke and the smell of tobacco, I secretly think back to our Garden’s courtyard, its smell of jasmine and lemon blossom. And I wonder about the universe’s messed-up ways and that new-found cynicism of mine. 

And still, somehow, in all the bleakness, I'm happy to be working again anyway. I'm even happier than I thought I’d be, and it has me wonder why. Could it be this simple? That maybe, happiness is not about having it all. It’s about knowing things might get better. 

It’s about believing that this time, it is possible.