5: Failure and Fish.

Everyone copes with disappointment in their own manner. Each one of us suffers being let down, missing the mark, and not getting our way numerous times throughout our lives. Some say that how we handle these setbacks is what defines us. Crawl into a hole and complain about the injustices of life, or stand up, brush the dirt off, and give it another go. It's an individual choice.
Of course, it's easy to say that you would take the latter path until you are faced with personal failure. This is the case for me this week.

I had visited the Seattle area a couple of months ago for work. The Company's corporate headquarters is located there, and I was able to spend just shy of a week in the Pacific Northwest for the first time. It's effect on me was profound. I was so taken by the city, the geography, and the atmosphere that I made a conscious decision to align my career path to lead me there. Upon my return to Maryland, my wife and I had even begun to research living arrangements for the move that, to me, was a foregone conclusion.

I had found two positions within the realm of my skill-set in the internal job postings, and threw my name into the hat for both. Shortly thereafter, I interviewed via the telephone for the more senior of the positions. I am a fairly confident guy (maybe more of a curse than a blessing). I did well on the interview, and guessed that it was just a matter of time before we were bouncing across the country in a U-Haul truck to our new home in Washington. I envisioned the miles of corn and wheat fields of the Midwest giving way to the fantastic scenery of the west - badlands and mountains, deserts and rivers. Veritable pioneers en route to Unknown Territories, with Starbucks of course.

Then Saturday came, and I found that this was not to be. The Company had chosen another candidate (most likely one who already works in the department, and would require no relocation benefits or additional training. A sound business decision, really). The child in me immediately thought of throwing the phone out of the car window, smashing it against the asphalt so that it would never relay bad news again. The more recent, logical Me chose to thank the hiring manager for his time, and assure him that I was still interested in the junior (read: less money) position. The rest of the day was a whirling, seething storm cloud of frustration. Since I've entered the world as a job-holding, contributing participant, I have never been turned down for a job. I interview well, and know my stuff. I felt what one might compare to what an undefeated boxer getting KO'd for the first time might - one loss doesn't signify a washed-up fighter, but the cuts and bruises will sting and bleed for a while.

By the following day (Sunday), the disappointment had time to fester. I found myself half-tempted to loiter around the house, un-showered and irritated, inevitably giving my wife a headache and myself an ulcer. I decided instead to get on the DRZ and buzz out to Georgetown and DC via the river roads along the Potomac. What better way to blow the dust of failure and self-pity from myself, and recount where I had gone wrong and what I could have done better. A mechanical medic.

I left Germantown by Rt. 118, down to Rt. 28, and then East towards Great Falls, Md. This takes you through Potomac - a town of mansions and horses - to the C&O canal routes that (used to) run from The Capitol to Ohio. River Road snakes all the way to Georgetown under different names. It's a great path to the city if you tend to avoid crowded, boring interstates as I do.

The trip took me past Great Falls National Park, a favorite hangout of mine. I am not a big fan of the DC area (hence my attempt to relocate to Seattle), but there are natural elements here that are equal in beauty to any in the country. Every second car on River Road was saddled with kayaks, mountain bikes, or both, all heading for the river and it's offerings. This slowed my progress a little, but I am generally not in a hurry, and this route tends to find squad cars in high numbers on weekends so slower is better. (The rich demand a high police presence, I guess).

My ride took my into Georgetown on M Street. I fueled up at the Exxon station that lies at the foot of the long flight of concrete stairs made famous in the film The Exorcist. I filled my tank while imagining Father Karras bouncing down the stairs to his bloody, broken doom. The only thing bouncing down today was a couple of jogging Georgetown students , and a few tourists taking photos. Rather than turning around immediately, I crossed the Key Bridge into Alexandria, Va, and then back into DC via the Memorial Bridge. This is the first time that I have had the little DRZ400 in an urban environment, and it performed brilliantly. Traffic became almost invisible to me, short corners and tight spaces appeared as wide open lanes, and lumpy curbs and potholes became the tacky obstacles of a mini-golf course - their presence just made the game more fun. Parking, normally a chore, was as simple as adjusting my geometry to take advantage of that little wedge of space between minivans and hot-dog carts. Where was my mistake?



I stopped on Constitution Avenue, directly between the Washington Monument and Pennsylvania Avenue, to stretch for a minute and people watch. Did they not like one of the answers that I gave them? Which one? Was it because I stumbled through the SS7 question?
If you ever want instant perspective of your own failures, stop in front of the White House and consider the man who lives inside. Your own inefficiencies will pale in comparison, guaranteed.





I left The Mall and wormed my way through the city to return the way I had come. System Of A Down was playing in my helmet (I choose music appropriate to my location, and System is always suitable for The Capitol Of The World) as I zipped across on I Street, K Street, and finally back to M, which leads out to MacArthur and to River Road. Back through the mid-paced curves of Potomac, back to Germantown. On the way home, I took a good quick run down Black Rock Road - an unmarked backroad that winds along Seneca Creek and Darnestown. All blind corners, loose gravel, choppy old asphalt, and 25 Mph signs. I took the road at 50, slightly illegal, but the little thumper just begs for roads like these, and I didn't want to deny it - one of us should get what he wants today. Why didn't I study up on SS7? Did my leadership ability not come across on the phone? Is that a car coming around that bend? Did the guy who got the job have an unfair advantage?



Seneca Creek was dead quiet aside from it's own bubbling, which I was hoping for. I sat for almost an hour on the rocks in the creek, thinking of Seattle, thinking of my wife's disappointment (she wants to go as much as I do), of what direction to go now. A small fish slipped over the rocks near my feet. I think he paused to give me a look that said, "Feeling sorry for yourself, superstar?" Smart-assed fish... one day he'll perish at the end of a hook. He always does.



But he was right. That almost-an-hour was good. I was able, at least briefly, to put things in perspective. I am not self-centered. I know that my little problems are virtual Nothings compared to those of others - guys that have skills and smarts but can't find good jobs anywhere. People who live on a fraction of what I have. I am in a good place in the world right now, and any foot-stomping and fist-shaking on my part over a virtually meaningless loss would be nothing less than arrogance. We don't "deserve" as much as we think we do. I didn't "lose" anything. My paychecks will still keep coming in, there's a lot of opportunity in my current role, and I have what I need. Next time around, I will not falter on a question about Signaling System 7.