Three weeks. That’s the shortest amount of time I’ve ever been unemployed. The day I was let go from my most recent job, I was contacted by a temp agency within a few hours of getting home. I guess I could argue I was “unemployed” for even less time.
While I was working my previous job however, I knew from the first day on the job that something was amiss. A week or two in, and I was aware I should be looking for something else. And while I searched, that left me with one thing to look forward to every day I commuted to work.
And that was the cows.
When you’re lucky with a job, you can have it all: a steady environment, good and willingly-helpful co-workers, an upbeat atmosphere that makes a workplace better than the job itself. Even working in a stressful job, where minute-by-minute changes are necessary, having a supportive team and surroundings can be the difference between “ready for tomorrow” and “I can’t do this anymore”.
I’ve been lucky to have that before. It doesn’t (and can’t) last forever, especially in an economy where increasingly people are job-hopping to make ends meet. The average person will hold around 12 jobs in their lifetime, either because they want to try new careers or because of workplaces that grind against their sense of… dignity? Safety? Comfort? Take your pick. Point is, there are plenty of reasons to not accept, or want to leave, a job. In my case, helping my customers was lovely, but those I reported to made me dread coming my upcoming day.
That’s why I loved the cows.
My everyday route was taking the freeway only long enough to get to the first exit, then began the stretch of fields and clear view of the hills; a welcome morning sight. Green in the winter months, golden in the warmer ones, and many of those months included the cows. They went about their days chewing on grass and spending time with their young. The young ones would play with each other, often right up near the fence as close to the road as they could be. In the hotter months they wouldn’t do as much, instead curling up and sleeping in the heat under the waning sunlight, just as I’d hoped to do once I reached home.
Happy. Uncomplicated. Content. Calm. All the things I was struggling to be.
On my last day at that job I drove home, and they were still out there for me. I know they weren’t there for me… but they were still there for me. There on the day when I should’ve been more worried about what to do next, confused about what I SHOULD do next. They were just out playing and waltzing through the sunlit fields, brightening my day by simply enjoying theirs. Being lazy and content to lay in the sun helped my brain settle from racing in every possible direction and sending my anxiety into overdrive.
I learned things at that job of course; new business skills, how to steady myself on the phone (I am a millennial after all), what kind of workplace I DON’T want to work in. I even found a new way to relax from work without it being a painful reminder. But the brightest spot was the big silly cows doing their own thing, which I stole glances of from my window at 40mph. And I learned how to enjoy the view in a way I hadn’t for many, many years.
Stand Tall, my friends. May your cows be as satisfying as mine… whatever form they take.