I’ve been suffering from a bout of financial anxiety over these last few weeks. It might have been the market downturn or receiving a copy of a W2 and thinking a digit had gone missing in Box 1 even though it hadn’t.
For days, I searched for tech jobs and agonized over whether to apply again. When I first left tech, I used to do this every day, several times a day, often for hours before writing. I called it part of my writing process.
This time, I managed to close the job listings within seconds of scrolling through them. But still, I resented myself for my recent career choices and longed for the comfort of a high income again. The worst feeling came after logging into LinkedIn – when did it become such a performative virtue hoarding forum instead of a way to keep in touch with current and former colleagues?
The best feeling as a bookseller
On Wednesday, after days of burrowing in the dark, regrettable hole of anxiety, I met a customer who had come in looking for a book for his wife. She was having a bad day, so he wanted to get her a title she’d had on her list.
It was out of stock, so I asked if he’d like to place an order for it. He said yes, then asked if we had similar books on hand. Over the next five, ten minutes, we chatted some more and I learned his wife was a customer I had met before, someone I already considered one of my Favorite Customers. With this in mind, I recommended American War and Black Leopard, Red Wolf along with To Paradise and Hell of a Book.
He continued browsing then brought my recommendations along with two more titles to the checkout counter. I asked if he had decided on any.
All of them, he said.
I couldn’t believe it.
His bill came to $150 and he paid without flinching. Just like that. He had walked in to get one book and walked out with six different ones.
He made my day because his purchase was out of love and care for his wife, but also because our interaction gave me the joy that comes from telling a stranger a few books you love and having them say, in purchasing them, Yes, I believe you, I trust you, I can’t wait to experience this for myself. This feeling alone brings me back to work every day.
Reminiscing teaches me a lesson
But after he left, the anxiety hit me harder. If where we spend our money reflects what we value, I should be buying $150 worth of books in one breath like that! Yet, I no longer make enough in a day to buy the books he bought. Why had I been so foolish?
I thought back to the years when my salary could have bought a copy of every book in the store. I envied my former self. I ached for a job in tech again. Why had I given up that kind of ease and comfort? Forget FIRE, I wanted to get back to living like money came in faster than I could spend it. I had fallen so far from that life, that ability to live out my values, that stuff of happiness. Worst of all, I had willfully done this to myself.
I tried thinking of times when I had done what this customer did, when I had been free of this anxiety and gone into a bookstore and bought whatever I wanted. I couldn’t think of any.
How many books did I buy in my five years in tech? I made myself count. Five.
How many have I bought in the last three months? At least a dozen.
It might mean I’m foolish, but I stopped searching for tech jobs. For good, hopefully. But even if it’s just a break for now, I’ll take it.
The Slow Life
Slow Read
I adored Xochitl Gonzalez’s debut, Olga Dies Dreaming. There are many excerpts worth sharing, on topics ranging from belonging and power to wealth and community. This is one of the shorter ones I bookmarked, part of a letter the protagonist’s mother writes to her daughter:
All of them chasing an impossible dream: to be accepted by a nation that viewed them with contempt. So willing – eager, almost – to shed our rich culture for the cheap thrill of being seen as “American.” Thinking that if one day they accumulated enough stuff, if they learned to act the right way, they could wipe the “Spic” off of them and be seen as “the same.” And because of course white America will never see them as equal, they die owning lots of things, but having lost themselves.
Slow Cook
Arepas! Kind of. I made one good arepa and lots of failed ones that passed as tortillas. We might try making pupusas next time (but those are even harder, so we might end up with more of a casserole =P)
Slow Joy
WFMT is Chicago’s local classical music radio station. I learned you can not only listen on their website, but also enjoy five-hour blocks of curated classical music online for free within two weeks of airing. Their curation is impeccable (though I still tune out whenever they choose opera) and gifted me the personal discovery of Mendelssohn’s lesser known violin concerto.