Fast forward into adulthood, another job, another disdain for my mental enslavement. Before long, my current job becomes mundane, and my short comings become more and more apparent every day. Maybe it's the timely rejection that I can feel creeping in or maybe it's classic ADHD, but whatever it is, I begin to grow restless. I become desperate to leave. to quit. To walk right out of the building each time I clocked in.
Day by day, my boredom begins to drive me insane and I start craving change even more intensely. Something, anything so that this job didn't feel like the exact same thing every day.
The urge to run away from everyone and everything, itches despertaly and it takes everything in me not to scratch that itch.
Surely there is a way to market that isn’t so damn boring.
That’s when I hear it.
A small voice whispers to me from the dirtiest corner of my mind.
Facebook. Facebook?
At only a few years old, Facebook isn’t a marketing powerhouse just yet. It’s mostly just filled with college kids and memes, so I'm not even sure why my brain recommended it. Back then, it wasn't much of anything.
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of it, but intuition tells me I’m on to something.
Hours later, I mention using Facebook to my boss Eddie, only instead of welcoming the idea with open arms, he insists that it’s a total waste of time.
I’m not all that surprised by his response. Nor am I offended by his ignorance. Not really. After all, he isn’t using social media. He isn't watching the pattern of potential rise each and every day, but I am.
Then again, most companies aren’t. Not yet at least. From the outside looking in, his assumptions make a lot of sense. Like I said, this was years ago and Facebook wasn't much of anything....yet.
I heard what he said. Digested it. And then decided to ignore it.
That afternoom, against my boss’s better judgment, I rebelliously create a Facebook page anyway.
Facebook is going to be a marketing goldmine. He’ll see.
Little did I know, that at the tender age of 23, just how very right I’d come to be about Facebook in the years that would follow.
The first few days of creating the Facebook page, give me exactly the novelty driven dopamine that I need.
Despite having no social media experience, I grow the page to 8,000 followers in just a few short months.
Thanks to my ADHD tendencies though, all that excitement of the achievement quickly fades.
It's then that the boredum gets the best of me. I start job hunting like the insatiable lunatic that I am. Part of me doesn’t even want to leave. After all, the job has brought me many positive things. Like Noel, for example. (meet Noel) She’s my assistant here and one of my favorite people in the whole world. I love getting to work with her everyday.
Despite the good things about my job, every couple weeks, I have this innate desire to blow it all up, from the ground up. My whole life included. Plus, lately, Eddie (my boss) has been getting on my damn nerves.
You can’t just quit your job because your boss pisses you off. You have bills bitch. Real fucking bills. And everybody has a boss that pisses them off.
My phone dings on my desk, interrupting my thoughts. Ironically enough, it’s Noel texting me.
“Hi. I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah. Hi, Whatever. Jessi. You have to help me.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?” I ask.
“It’s Jose. He’s driving me crazy. You’re good with people. You have to help me!”
Jose’s a mechanic at the park as well as a friend of hers, but I'm not sure what he could possibly have to do with me. I don't even manage that part of the park.
Did she say I’m good with people?
“I’m good with people? Since when?” She doesn’t say anything immediately but I hear an exasperated sigh escape her. I can almost see her eyes roll to the back of her head through the phone.
“Since always. Just help me! Please.”
“Okay! Okay! What is it exactly that you want me to do again?”
“I dunno. Just talk to him so he leaves me the fuck alone. He’s going through a breakup, and I don’t know what to fucking tell him anymore.”
I nod slowly, soaking this in.
“Ok, I can do that,” I reply.
Why me?
“Thank you! I owe you one,” she promises.
This is hands down the weirdest and most random favor she’s ever asked of me. Part of me wishes it was just another call from her, begging me to rescue her from some sketchy party instead. This favor seems far more complicated.
Besides, since when am I good with people?
