I find that after a few days on the road, I'm thrown into an existential crisis. I have a ton of trouble reconciling the need for money and the need for fulfillment. These episodes always seem to end with me silently repeating a mantra that touches on my true aspirations, places the consulting work into a larger perspective, and somehow tells me to suck it up.
On these particular trips, I blame it on the building in which I do most of my work.
Let me see your Tootsie Roll(s).From a distance, the building doesn't look that bad. Inside, however, it's a different story. I've yet to feel at ease when inside it. Maybe it's the fact that the only water in the building is run up one of the four "towers" on the corners. This translates into the bathrooms being placed in a semi-circle with the toilets on the narrowest part. Freaky.
One of the strangest things about the building has to be the elevators: Prior to entering the elevator, you punch in your desired floor number on a keypad. This keypad tells you which elevator to ride. The elevator comes, you get in it, and note the absence of any floor buttons. When I'm in the elevator, I fully expect to hear HAL telling me why he can't let me go to the lobby and leave the building. Anyway, it's very strange.
Punch in the floor number on the futuristic keypad.
Wait for the assigned elevator.
Panic because you're a prisoner inside a golden, metal box.Anywho, my point is that although the people are generally friendly, the building creeps me out a little.
Ultimately, this ends with me alone in my hotel room after having dinner with strangers. If there is a particularly touching documentary on HBO*, for example, my final act before bedtime will be crying like a baby at the beauty of the human experience.
*I defy you not to weep openly while watching "Hear and Now."
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