The Do-Over(22)
Author: Suzanne Park
He tore a corner off his napkin and wadded it into a tiny ball. “There’s also a selfish reason I’m back in school. I’m tired of working in the real world. All of my friends are married and having kids, or really far into their careers, and I felt like I was drifting. Not in an aimless, confused way. But I wanted to accomplish something and claim it as mine.” He sighed. “Even with a PhD though, I still don’t think I know what to do until I retire.”
Did everyone our age feel like they weren’t quite where they were supposed to be? I could definitely relate. “It’s weird how you graduate and then they thrust you into the real world without any practical skills. And then before you know it, you’re thirty-something, or older even, and wonder where all the time went. Wondering if you were doing what you were put on this Earth to do. Learning skills and hoping you’re getting paid what you’re worth.”
He nodded. “That’s why I was so happy to see that you became an author after vaulting to the top of the corporate ladder. I don’t remember you taking English or journalism classes. And you definitely weren’t a staff writer nerd for the college paper like I was.”
He failed to mention he quit the paper after two semesters as he continued. “It’s impressive, everything you’re doing. Makes me think that it’s okay to not just do one thing in life. Or that it’s okay to try new things long after you graduate.” His lips quirked up as he took a sip from his cup.
I sighed. “The career rat race is mostly just a rusty, squeaky old hamster wheel going nowhere.”
He responded, “Truth.”
Being an adult was hard, and you didn’t get many chances to try different paths once you were on one. Sometimes changing meant giving something up, or being penalized by having to start at the bottom again. And as years passed, these trade-offs became less appealing, not to mention it was much harder to change direction after you turned thirty. I knew about this firsthand.
I assured him, “You might think it’s cowardly to duck out of the never-ending corporate slog and try something new, but I think you’re brave with your career change.”
“Well, I think you’re brave too.”
My gaze traveled the room for any onlookers, to make sure no one was getting the wrong idea. Not that there was anything between us. Not anymore at least.
Most of the tables were occupied with clusters of students who were on their phones, not only ignoring Jake and me, but also disregarding one another. Over in the far back corner, I made eye contact with Ethan.
Oh no. I’d forgotten about him. Them. My CS group.
Icy cold prickles flooded my body, making me involuntarily shiver as a sense of guilt swept over me. I couldn’t tell from Ethan’s expression how he was reading this situation. Was it clear we were just TA and pupil, and nothing more? Was there anything to misconstrue? In any case, I needed to end my conversation immediately with Jake. It would be a bad idea to keep things too friendly and familiar between us. The last thing I needed to do was to kick up rumors and draw attention to myself.
I scooted back my chair and rose to my feet. “Thanks for the coffee and the walk down memory lane. I need to meet up with my group to work on the next assignment.”
His smile fell. “Oh, I was hoping we could—” Jake saw me nervously glance over at Ethan’s table. “Well, maybe another time. It was really nice seeing you again. If you need any help on the homework let me know. And if your group has questions about using VS Code on the SEASnet Windows Server, you can text me. Or stop by my office hours tomorrow. Room 1001011.”
Right, I forgot about the binary code.
He texted his contact info and we pushed our chairs under the table. After saying our quick goodbyes, we parted ways.
I nearly tripped over my own feet as I rushed over to Ethan’s table. “So sorry I’m late. I met up with Jake . . . er . . . Jacob. I knew him from a long time ago, we go way back. It’s wild seeing him here at Carlthorpe. Anyway, what’d I miss?” I spoke with too much enthusiasm, a sign I was hiding something, or flat-out lying. Calm the eff down, Lily.
“We were just building the executable from the program,” Grace said, smiling at me. “Except PJ, he was watching YouTube.”
“Hey! I was browsing videos to see if anyone had posted content about this assignment or something similar, thank you very much. I’m sad to report that we’re on our own for this one.” He slammed his laptop shut and groaned.
Grace sighed. “Not every class is going to have a teacher’s edition textbook or video with answers.” She rolled her eyes. “Can we just get this done so I can have the weekend free?”
Ethan cleared a section of the table so I could sit. “Have you had a chance to look at the assignment? It’s harder than I thought it would be.”
I flipped open my laptop, skimmed the syllabus, and clicked the link to the homework. “Looks like he’s a stickler on the requirements. We can’t include any extra files or misspell anything in our final deliverable. Yes, I understand what he’s looking for.”
PJ’s eyes widened. “Wow, well, I’m glad you’re with us. I think I’m in over my head.”
We spent the next hour going over the assignment and making sure we were all meticulous and on the same page. The four of us worked really well together and each of us added something to the conversation. Although as far as comprehension went, I had the strongest affinity for the materials covered in the lesson, probably because one of the many hats I’d worn at my last corporate job was working as a liaison between the product and dev teams. One of the programmers had written their mantra on their department hallway: “We write slick, tight code!” It rang vaguely offensive to a few people at the company so they had to take it down, but I knew what they meant. And this class was all about simplicity, efficiency, and attention to detail. These were three things that I valued highly, especially in a work setting. The class material clicked with me, more than any coursework had in the past.
Ethan closed his laptop. “Homework done. Weekend free. This is amazing.”
Grace asked me, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
I shrugged. “Sure, fire away.”
She prompted, “So . . . are you getting a post-bac degree? I’m not saying you’re old but—”
PJ sniggered while playing a mobile shooter game on his phone. “Wow, that’s a rude question. And you kind of just did.”
Ethan said unconvincingly, “Age is just a number, Grace.”