Thursday, March 30, 2017
I am about to venture to my own Vanity Fair and although I have no sisters nearby to help pack my trunk, I do feel the love and support of those who care. My destination is not Boston Society but an exciting new job with more money, exceptionally wonderful benefits and hopefully, more respect than in my last position. To prepare for Vanity Fair, I have scripted a checklist for my "trunk" based on all the loving advice I have received about this sudden and perfectly Providential chance. The new position practically fell from the sky and into my outstretched arms (although I was ready the day my heart whispered to my soul, "Where's your pride?").
~As I enter the door of my new firm, I will tell myself "I am about to meet some life-long friends". (From my sister)
~I will pack a book as well as a healthy salad for lunch in case my initial lunchtime appears to be a lone one (i.e., lonely). (From my daughter)
~I will remind myself that this job was a gift from Heaven above and I will be mindful of the Divine's hand. (From my good friend, Karen, who prayed)
~My look will straddle the more casual dress code of my new company with my natural tendency toward trust-fund-librarian style. I will strike an appropriate balance until I know more about how the natives dress. (Also from Karen)
~I will remember that new ventures even at my age, mean a "younger" brain and learning new things will be ever-so-good for me. (Also from my sister)
~I will carry a small tote bag with a few "comforts" for just-in-case, including an extra set of contact lenses, some tea bags, tissues, and a new notebook for jotting down notes in a pretty way. (My friend Patty, an inveterate self-starter who is a wee bit older than I)
~I will become acquainted with my new commute route well before my start date so I arrive with time enough to compose myself and check my lipstick. (The Complete Secretary's Handbook - 1962 edition)
Unlike Meg March, no one can pack my trunk for me...but my loved ones have certainly helped me fill it.