(Or How I Learned to Never Say "Never")
They say if you want to make God laugh, just tell Him your plans. Well, I think I’ve become His favorite stand-up act lately. Remember my last post, [Update: Beyond the gates of Brothers]? Back then, I was convinced the interview was a total disaster because my "home math" (the day shift) didn't align with the reality on the ground (the night shift).
But life has a very specific sense of humor. That "it's not possible" from back then transformed, through a bit of bureaucratic pirouette, into a surprisingly cheerful "yes." I’ve realized one thing: the success of an interview isn't just about your answers, but about the energy you carry when you walk out. If you leave those gates feeling like you’ve had a great conversation, the rest is just paperwork. And just like that, I’ve ticked all the boxes, signed everything, and I already have a date marked in my calendar for the big "return."
And here’s where the "making fun of trouble" part comes in. After a few months where my only physical effort was moving my laptop from one side of the sofa to the other, a harsh realization hit me: I’ve grown quite fond of the "gentleman's life." To be honest, I’m a bit terrified. Not of the work itself, but of the fact that I’ve become so "comfortable" that even the idea of wearing safety boots feels like an extreme adventure.
I’m at that point where I wonder if I still have the "engine" in me or if these months of downtime have permanently turned me into a professional couch potato. It’s an internal struggle between the excitement of having a path again and that absurd fear that my "comfort zone" has stuck to me like a magnet.
Have you ever felt that, after a long break, starting over is like trying to jump-start an old car in the middle of winter?
And by the way, how do you sense if an interview went well before you actually see the contract?
Catch you in the comments, before I officially enter "nocturnal mode."
