Where I Belong

I belong in a city. A big city. Like the kind of big city that would overwhelm most and make people feel insignificant. I find comfort where others feel lost.

I went to New York this weekend. Now, I’m not saying I’d like to live there, that’s just silly. New York is a little too dirty, a little too crowded, and a lot too expensive. But being in the city felt right. Able to carry just the bare essentials, walk to anywhere I needed to be, ignore people as I passed them by, watch people and listen to snippets of conversation. Experiencing life all around me without having to actively participate; which I know does not sound great, but deal with it.

I heard something on the street this weekend that made me think.

“Selective racism brought to you by customer service. I tell you girl, nothing can make you hate people more than customer service.”

I assume there was a story that led up to this remark and likely some discussion afterward, but this is all my ears caught while whizzing up the Avenue of the Americas. And I thought about it. And I agree with it. And would add that HR is arguably one of the largest customer service industries. My team in particular is outstanding at finding ways of NOT helping people and, oh yeah, making it their fault. But I don’t want to make this about them, that horse is long decayed.

I am fiercely independent. I enjoy variety. I belong in the city. Maybe I’ll take another crack at Chicago or let the huz convince me Boston is where it’s at. New Orleans is pretty high on both our lists, and I have an in with someone who knows a thing or two about the territory. 😉 These vagabond shoes are longing to stray.


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