I knew I needed to do something with my job search. The project we’d been launching required total re-haul after the last iteration. It didn’t promise any kind of income in the foreseeable future. Our budget was about to require some credit funds, which was totally unacceptable. Kate worked hard at her day job to let me continue the project, but her salary wasn’t enough to feed our family.
I stared at the job hunting board. What was I to do? I was pretty sure that I’d have no trouble getting a new job should’ve I decided to return back to the engineering position. Yet, the very thought about that mundane work made me sick. I spent over 11 years coding but doing nothing meaningful. Less than a year ago, I saw the only way out, launching our own project. I thought I was lacking one element all that time that is the time dedicated solely for the project. There I was, having failed that project with the dedicated time as well.
So the question was “What now?” There was no money left for another attempt. What did I do in the two or three months that was left till we go broke?
The new “the only way out” was a product manager position. Why? It’s about doing most of the work required to launch a product, but with the development team and ready-made investors. It looked like a perfect match to my requirements. Perfect, if not for two things. First, I felt that my minimal salary expectations didn’t match my professional level. And the expectations raised from the needs of our family. Second, I wasn’t sure about my abilities for the role at all. For sure, I had learnt a couple of things the hard way when I was launching the project. But the final result was that, I failed. What would I put on the table during the interviews?
“Daddy,” Mila called me from the kitchen. “Would you like to play with me in Lego Worlds?”
“Sure, darling. I’m coming.”
It was the right time to switch the context. I loved to play with Mila, and she needed me quite often.
Apart from playing video games, we loved to play big tennis, color pictures at our favorite cafes, tell stories about our hero Panda and hanging in the office on weekends… Oh, this one. The memory of it hurts and reminds about my unheld promises.
When we moved to Yekaterinburg for my new job, I got access to the office that was accessible 24/7. The office was very good, with many of the perks that an IT company space usually has. Spacious open spaces with cool chairs, compact gym with tennis tables, cozy coffee points, well designed meeting rooms with PS4s here and there. Mila enjoyed all of this, and especially the music room with guitars, a drum set, and a piano. We used to spend there at least a day every month. Daughter and father alone, in an almost desert space, all for our time together.
Mila had always been waiting for the next time we get there. It’s hard to describe how upset she was when I decided to retire from my job. It meant loosing access to the office for her. More importantly, it meant loosing access to our time together. Something she liked a lot and needed much.
That time, I told Mila that we’d have our own office when we finally launch our company. I knew it would be hard, and not at the first attempt. I told Mila about it. But it still felt like another failure, like a promise I couldn’t have kept.
I shrugged off these thoughts. I needed to calm down to get back on track and finally get that office for Mila. And now it would have been better to stand up and go play with her. A together time, even though not at the office.
Walking by the mirror, I looked at myself. Navi blue tight fit suit, white shirt, red tie. I had always struggled at the IT company that I couldn’t wear this kind of clothes. Nobody would’ve stopped me from that but it wouldn’t have fitted in to the atmosphere. I felt it as if it was a physical limitation.
Now, I could wear a blue suit all the time. And I was enjoying doing so very much. The suit made me feel more concentrated and determined to achieve my goals. I would like to think that this kind of clothes made me feel myself more business-like. To face the truth, I looked a bit more like a politician with some excessive weight, that I gained recently.
“Mila, darling, I’m here. Which world should we play today?” I asked my daughter leaning on the back of the couch in front of the TV.
“Let’s play the Monsters one!”
We dived in to the imaginary world of vampires, skeletons, and zombies. The one where you couldn’t die, but only explore and create.
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