I shake my head. “Nothing from the recruiters and no new listings.”
“Too bad, but give it time.” She pats my shoulder reassuringly.
I nod in agreement, though I’m not sure I believe her. “So I’m sick of talking about myself and my problems. Tell me about you. How was your day?”
“Eh? It was a day.” Now it’s her turn to shrug. “The client is a pain in the ass, and I hate everyone I work with. But, that’s why they pay me the big bucks.” She rubs her thumb and forefinger together in the universal gesture for money and comes across looking more like a mob boss than a corporate litigator.
“Is it really that bad? Have you ever thought about switching firms?”
“All the time,” she drags out flatly. “But it’s the same story at every firm, and what else am I going to do?” She takes a rather large sip of her wine.
I shake my head in sympathy. While at times I’ve hated parts of my job and some days were better or worse than others, overall I’ve never had much cause for complaint. Sure, when I was starting out I probably took on more grunt work than necessary, and while I may have grumbled a bit to friends, I knew that it was just a rite of passage to bigger and better things in my career. Jordan though has been complaining since Day One at her firm.
“Have you ever just thought of changing careers?”
“Every day,” she says solemnly. “Every. Single. Day.”
“So?”
“So? Like I said, what else am I going to do? I don’t know how to do anything else. Plus, now I’m used to the golden handcuffs and a certain standard of living.”
“Yeah. I can appreciate that.” Although I received a severance, I’m still nervous about finances and have put a moratorium on new purchases.
“And I hope this doesn’t sound too insensitive, but I’m kind of jealous of your situation.”
“Are you serious?” I put down my glass and stare at her in disbelief. “It doesn’t sound insensitive, it sounds crazy! What’s wrong with you?”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. What you’re going through is the worst,” she backtracks. “But you have this freedom right now to do anything you want. No significant other tying you down. No more wedding planning. And I’m sure this next sentiment is insensitive, but let me just say, Thank god.” She slaps her hand on the table and I give her a friendly eye roll.
When she first met Neil, she said to me, “Ugh. Really, Allie? He’s just so Wrigleyville bland.” But when she realized he wasn’t going anywhere, she kept her opinions to herself—until now.
“And, anyway,” she continues, “knowing you, your condo is probably paid off and I bet you have some healthy savings saved up on top of your severance. You can do whatever you want right now.”
While she’s wrong on the mortgage, she’s right in that I did manage to save money by living with Neil for four years; and with the generous severance, my current savings, and canceling the wedding vendors using Neil’s credit cards, my financial circumstances aren’t too dire, yet.
“That’s a positive spin. Maybe you should be working in the marketing department?” I jokingly jab her in the shoulder with my index finger.
She rolls her eyes back at me. “I know you’re looking for PR jobs, but have you thought about totally changing course? Reinventing yourself?”
I shake my head. With everything that happened a week ago, I’m still just getting over the blow. Polishing up my resume and sending it out was the one concrete thing in my control, and so that’s what I did.
“So if you could have any job, what would it be?” Jordan looks at me expectantly.
“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Being an English major (a default major since I followed my peers into college but with no clue what I wanted to do with my life), I took the first job that was offered, which happened to be an assistant at PR Worldwide, and then two years later I was promoted as a junior account executive and the rest is history. Suffice it to say, I’m not much of a deep thinker. I tend to think about what needs to get done in the moment and focus on excelling in that. In school, it was about grades, and at PR Worldwide, it was getting the job done.
“Okay, then just for fun,” Jordan muses, “what would you do if you could do anything and not worry about money?”
“How about … absolutely nothing?” I laugh, and then reflect out loud, the wine hitting me. “Get a massage every day. Hang out with my friends. Shop. Work out. Travel. Live in luxury hotels with everything catered to me.” I don’t mention how I just realized today that I don’t have any hobbies; but I think with this list, it’s pretty obvious. Luckily, my wine buzz prevents me from getting too depressed about this fact.
“Okay, okay.” Jordan laughs and holds up her hand to stop me. “I meant more in the way of being a productive citizen and contributing to society; but I get it. Same here, which is why I’m stuck being a lawyer.” Sensing that I’m hopeless, Jordan asks, “Have you reached out to any of your contacts in the PR world?”
I play with my wineglass stem and sigh. It’s hard to network when I don’t want to talk to anyone. “Not yet. Gossip spreads so quickly. I’m hoping to get another job before any word gets out. Plus, I’m worried if I call anyone, the whole story about Neil will come out and I’m not ready for that either.”
“Yeah, well, they’re going to find out when you have to call and cancel their invites. Or is your mom doing that?”
I groan. “No, she’s still hopeful that there’s going to be a wedding. It would be one thing if he had cold feet … but he cheated on me. With my maid of honor! There’s no recovery from that.”
“That bastard should be the one calling.”
“Agreed.” And remembering Neil’s brief email from this morning, I twist my fingers angrily around my wine stem. “So I canceled most of the contracts today.”
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry, sweetie.” Jordan wraps her arm around me for a sympathetic squeeze. “So what’s left?”
“Just my dress.” I sigh heavily. “My beautiful, beautiful dress.”
“Oh,” Jordan says quietly, giving the moment the reverence it deserves. “It is a beautiful dress.”
When I had tried it on at the bridal shop, as I walked out of the dressing room toward the pedestal, the first person I locked eyes with to see their expression was Jordan. In what was a typical Say Yes to the Dress experience, everyone that day had an opinion and an agenda, and I kept hoping for Randy to show up to take charge of the situation. My mother wanted something with more beading. Stacey was trying to push two-hundred-pound ball gowns that made me look less like Cinderella and more like the pumpkin. And Kate just typed away on her iPhone barely participating unless asked a direct question. Jordan’s was the only objective opinion that day.
“That dress is you,” she said.
And it was.
In that moment, I drowned out everyone else’s opinion and listened to my heart. I loved the simple elegance of the dress—I wasn’t hidden by layers of fluffy tulle or weighed down by pounds of heavy satin or outshone by sparkles and intricate beading. When I looked in the mirror that day, the first thing I saw was not the dress, but myself.