There was a month or two period there before quitting my job as a barista where I genuinely didn’t like what I did. I was frustrated with the people I interacted with daily, the management was in a strange and unsettled place, and Abbie and I both were looking, actively, had been looking, actively, for something to help us pay the bills come our marriage; neither of us had been successful in that yet. When I put in my notice and was prepared to leave for good, it was a freeing feeling. Knowing that I would be moving on to something better, knowing that the dead end I’d felt as though I was running into would soon be behind me and something better for me, better for Abbie, better for our marriage would be waiting ahead, made me feel as though I was finally getting my head around this whole “adult” thing.
But it didn’t last.
The few months I’ve been in the Real Estate game haven’t been great. I’ve blamed a number of factors—the new administration and how unsettled everyone seems as a result of it has been toward the top of my list—but the market hasn’t been great. No one is selling, buyers are uneasy, and during the time I’ve been involved so far, everything has been slow—standstill-esque if you will. That, as you might imagine, is frustrating and has been getting even more frustrating the longer I’ve been in the business. When you leave the job you for a number of years enjoyed for one that was intended to be the better option, could still be the better option, but hasn’t proved itself to be yet, it makes you, makes me, miss the job I was in. It makes me miss being a barista. It makes me miss the simplicity of the trade, the interactions I had with people over something of such low stakes (good coffee as opposed to a, you know, house), and makes me miss actually working for some sort of payment, even if that payment was lower than I would have liked.
It makes me wish sometimes I was back there. Real Estate will pick up, I’m sure. The weather will warm up, kids will be getting ready to finish the year, and families will be ready to pick up and move. The people will be buying, the houses will be selling, and by and large, I will probably begin to feel better about my role in Real Estate—but I don’t yet. I’ll just keep writing from the lounge of the coffee shop I worked in until I do, living vicariously through the new and old faces behind the counter, hoping eventually that Real Estate picks up; oh please God let Real Estate pick up.