Fearful Friday

Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.

-Dorothy Thompson

Oh.my.God. I am going to do something now that scares the crap out of me, something I HATE doing. I am going to share some of my writing with you. Below is the first chapter of my NaNo novel.  Read away and tell me what you think…be kind, please…..remember, this has not been edited AT ALL. It is on here exactly like it flowed out of my head, I have not gone back to fix punctuation, grammar or sentence structure…..

I might throw up a little now…..

 

 

Who knew two little words could make such a profound difference in a person’s life?  Sure, there are the obvious two word combinations – I do, not guilty, and wasn’t me – but those aren’t the ones I used.  I said the big ones and they set me off on a voyage that changed my life.

I quit.

Saying those two words liberated me from a job I hated, but had been toiling away at for 6 years.

I quit.

They freed me from a relationship that was going nowhere with a man who had no idea what he wanted, but whatever it was, it didn’t include me.

I quit.

Two words set me off on a journey.  I had no plan, no idea where I was going or when I would come back.  What was there for me to come back to? Nothing. I needed a fresh start, a clean slate, a “do over” if you will. So off I went.

            Those words brought me here, to a tiny café in Savannah, Georgia that smells of honey and bacon where I sit with my laptop and a cup of coffee, about to pour out my heart and soul to whomever wants to listen to my story.

            My name is Grace Kelly McFadden, but everyone calls me Gracie.  My mother named me after one of the most beautiful and elegant actresses of all time, a woman who would become a Princess, not only of Monaco, but also of people’s hearts, and I couldn’t be more unlike that lovely woman. I am neither elegant nor graceful.  My hair is jet black and tends to hang as straight as sticks to my shoulder blades, except for one piece on the right side of my forehead that insists on bending in a funky way unless I painstakingly straighten it out every morning.  My eyes are blue and I think they are my best feature as the rest of me is rather unremarkable.  I am the epitome of average. Average height, average weight, no matter how hard I try I’ve got 15 pounds that seem to have taken up permanent residence on my frame.

So why did I say those words? What would possess a 26 year old woman to abandon a good career, even if it was one she despised, and a steady relationship for the open road?  2,500 envelopes that needed to be hand addressed. Saying it like that, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but when added to the pile of other things making my life miserable, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. 

            I am, or was, a sales associate in one of the world’s largest banks.  I worked with our branch’s top producer handling all of the smaller accounts, compiling research and putting together analyses of all of our client’s portfolios.  We had an assistant, Hester, to handle all of our administrative functions, but beyond basic letter writing and account opening, she was useless.  That’s where the problem began.  Everything Hazel couldn’t or wouldn’t do fell on to my desk.  My work load just kept growing and growing until I was working 60 hour weeks on a regular basis.  That, by itself, wouldn’t have been so bad, everyone knows in order to be successful you have to put in the time and effort.  That I could do. What I could not do was start taking orders from a woman twice my age with less than half my qualifications who had a rolodex of excuses when asked why she could not perform the most simple office tasks. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, eye strain, arthritis, you name it, she had it.

The final straw came in the form of our annual client holiday cards.  2,500 cards to be sent to all of our clients, wishing them joy and happiness for the holiday season and beyond. Blah, blah, blah.  This year Hazel decided she couldn’t possibly fill them out, as not only had her carpal tunnel syndrome been getting increasingly troublesome, her arthritis was acting up again. Where did the boxes and boxes of glittery cards land? In my office of course.  When I explained that there was no way I had time for an additional project, my boss, Joe, simply said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to spend a little more time in the office for a few weeks” Then he walked away with a chuckle.

What!?! More hours?  Is he kidding me? This coming from the man who spends fewer than three hours a day in his office.  Before I knew what I was doing, I had opened a new word document and typed the following:

                                    To Whom It May Concern:

                                                I quit.

                                    Grace Kelly McFadden

I grabbed a paper box from the copy room, shut my office door and put all of my pictures and personal belongings inside. I put the lid on the box, snatched the letter from the printer and with a deep breath opened my office door. 

            With shaking hands, I walked into Joe’s office.  He was on the phone and didn’t look up to acknowledge my presence, so I walked over, set the letter on the desk in front of him and walked out. 

Back in my office, I picked up my box and purse, took one last look around and marched back out.  Hazel asked if I was going to a meeting and when I would be back.  I laughed and said, “Never. It’s all up to you now.”  Watching her mouth drop was totally worth it.

As I pulled out of the parking garage in my sassy, little green Mini Cooper, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I had enough money in savings to last several months in case it took me some time to find something new.  I was counting on my boyfriend Gage’s support as I moved forward into the next phase of my life.  I zipped out of the parking lot and drove home with a huge grin on my face.