Life is funny - or maybe it isn't

You just never know what's going to tilt your leveling device. You never know what you're depending on for a sense of well-being. Sometimes life has to come along and show you, because most of us - least of all, me - don't have enough courage to tilt it ourselves.

My close friend and mentor, the one who coaxed me into following her into her new company a little over three years ago after I had retired, is no longer with the company I consult with. Her departure was sudden - she was a casualty of an acquisition by a larger company. And I found myself, all of a sudden, suffering a deep and profound sense of loss.

We have had the best time together over the last three years. She has a way of convincing me that I want to do what she wants me to do, over my very strong protests. As the older of the two of us - old enough to be her mother - it has been fun to watch my friend manipulate me into the position where she wanted me. Every time she won, I ended up being involved in more people's lives and, yes, enjoying my own life more - being rewarded every step of the way - not the least by becoming acquainted with today's generation of young professionals - people I have come to know, respect, and champion.

The story goes something like this:

At first, she offers me a lark - write a few video scripts. She's new at the company. I can help her make an impact. Piece of cake, and a nice little diversion from retirement. I'm not entrapped yet. Then there are rewrites of a few help screens. Ah, another piece of cake. A few grumbles, a few questions about who these two women are; but hey, we can overcome that. We're experienced at this kind of thing, and it's not really a big deal. The rewrites go out with the software release.

Then it's the review of a piece of software someone else designed. No one knows me, and I'm jumping into someone else's designs and they know not why. Protests, grumbles, messages to back off. Oh well, we tried. It wasn't a good design, and it didn't work, anyway. I don't know that anything we could have done would have saved it.

But we're ok so far. Until the user guide, that is. The question is put to me: Will I take it on? No, I say, but maybe I can find someone to help. No, I really don't want to do it. I've never authored a guide before. No, this isn't my cup of tea. But alas, none of my writer friends wants to take on this project.

So I say, what are friends for? What the heck? I'll do it. What better purpose can a person have than helping a friend? Oh my goodness, did she know that would be my response all along? Am I entrapped now?

I should have known for certain I was in trouble when the response was "write me a few samples." Huh? I have to apply for this job that I don't want? Well, ok. The old guide is a mess; surely I can do better than what's been published in the past.

And so it went. Whenever she asked if I knew someone who would take on a job, somehow I ended up doing it until I was so deeply engrained that she had me begging to let me do it. Does she know me or what!?! I quit telling her no. It just wasted time, because I was going to end up filling the spot she wanted me to fill.

And then I ended up playing the role of a senior manager while we realigned certain departments to make them more proficient and efficient.

Oh, the places I've been, the people I've met! It's been the best ride - a total surprise for my retirement, and a lovely way to continue a very satisfying working relationship with my friend from the company from which I retired.

And then it's over. Just like that. I felt that my head had been chopped off. It's the strangest feeling. One day, I'm running with wolves; the next day, I am in a quiet place where there seems to be no sound, no activity - just utter quiet.

My leveling device has been tilted, for sure. I am gaining my momentum again, but it's only because being in motion is my style. I strive to be upright again. Over time I will be. But I have to regain a focal point. In the meantime, I will be forever grateful for the last three + years. What a wonderful surprise!