This past weekend was Comic Con. It’s been years since I’ve attended Comic Con. This latest one, I didn’t even try to get tickets. And yet, somehow, it still managed to screw me over.
Let me explain: On Friday, I was late to work.
Let me explain further:
I take the trolley to work. It’s a long commute. It’s time consuming, I have to wake up at five, and I’m always nervous there’s going to be some delay which will mess up my razor-thin timing. Which has been known to happen.
It happened last Monday, in fact. Due to “police activity downtown” the trolley was delayed by forty-minutes, which made me miss my transfers and would have put me at work around ten in the morning. Typically when this happens, I consider it the Universe’s way of telling me I need a day off and so call out of work. Which is what I did on Monday.
But then I was delayed again on Friday.
Due to Comic Con and increased traffic to the convention center, they pulled orange and blue line routes (the ones I use to get to work) to add more green line routes. This, by the way, enraged me. Not that they modified the schedule, but because at no point during any of my commutes the prior week did they mention this would occur. You’d think there would be an announcement every few stops or so: “Due to convention traffic, orange and blue line trolleys will be running on a modified schedule July 20th through 24th. Please go to our website for more information.” Nope. None that I heard, anyway.
So, by 6:28am–a full ten minutes after my trolley was supposed to arrive–I realized something was amiss. I also realized there was no way I would make my connection. I debated for a moment turning around and going home, but then I remembered: I couldn’t. I already called out on Monday.
Missing work on a Monday or Friday is bad enough–it always looks like the person calling out just wants a three-day weekend. But twice in one week? Plus I have a four-work-day vacation scheduled in two weeks? That just looks like I don’t feel like coming in, period. And I would hate for one of my bosses to make that permanent.
So, I quickly Google Mapped a new route–a very new route. Multiple transfers in areas I’ve never been to. It made me anxious about… being anxious about it. For as anxious as I was for my anxiety to kick in, I wasn’t actually anxious about my new transit route. I made it to the new transit center, and the different buses, and work without a hiccup. I even caught a Vulpix on Pokemon Go that I would have never been around otherwise.
It worked out.
I guess the anxiety of being fired for missing too much work out anxiety-ed the anxiety of getting lost in San Diego. Which I’m considering to be a step of forward progress.
I love you all.