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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Wednesday, Jun. 05, 2013 @ 4:19 pm
Three days left at this job.
Two weeks ago. In the brick alley between two office towers, I sit on the ledge of a planter, ferns quivering in the gusts of downtown winds. I stare at my phone, waiting for it to ring, the clatter of high heels as a business woman passes.
It rings. I nervously answer, not sure what to expect. He asks me again about my shorter-term longer-term plans. I say ummm... and then launch into a surprisingly well-spoken and calm description of my career goals and current limitations and the reasons why I pursued a job with them. At the end of my speech I pause, take a breath, and he says, Well, we think you'd be a great fit for our team, so would you like to hear our offer?
So, this is it. This is me leaving. This is me walking away from Bathurst Inlet, from mining camps, from the blood money of pipelines. This is me walking towards a settled future, a future with family and conscience.
This is me walking towards Daniel.