My 9 to 5 weep.

Yesterday was my first on-the-job cry. It was bound to happen one of these days. Also noteworthy, my office wall is glass. This means I can run, but I can't hide. I quickly realized it's possible to care deeply about something without knowing it. And then when something threatens to ruin the whole kit and kaboodle -- my work baby -- I'm suddenly aware that I would work as long as it took to make it right.

Who knew I cared about data? It's not the data, really. It's the people the data represents. You see, their names will become faces and bodies in just a couple weeks, and my job is to 1.) know that they're coming to our event, and 2.) prepare in advance everything they will need for the week. So when our trial-phase online database decided to move over to real-phase and omit some very important information, I got queasy. Real queasy.

I don't think about this often enough, but what I do here (and everywhere, really) has a consequence. It reflects onto something. In this case, it reflects on my company. There are no actions without reactions. Months ago, I was debating whether or not to enter all the information in two different places, just for safe-keeping. I decided not to, and now I'm wishing I had. We humans have very little foresight. I don't know what will happen after I click "Publish Post" or what will happen at 5:30 this evening, or on my 26th birthday. But whatever I do will have a consequence. That little nauseous feeling in my stomach reminds me that my actions affect others, just like our software company's actions affected me.

Today I'm considering what and who I represent and what my life means because of it. And for now, I need to avert crisis and recover what's been lost. Adios.