The first email appeared around 9:30 a.m. The member of the marketing department in charge of announcing the enrollment period for the second session liked all the changes I asked to make to my class. She enthusiastically jumped into creating two fliers and website announcements: one announcing a demo session for parents and children; the other detailing the cost and session dates.
But I kept waiting for a shoe to fall. I was quite conscious that, excluding the owners of the gym, there were three people above her on the company hierarchy. Just because she liked the idea of a family class didn’t mean I had the corporate go ahead. An hour later, I had that go ahead and more. The head of the marketing department announced her approval of the class changes, and the program director for the entire company was cc’d on the email, indicating the off-camera conversation, as we like to say at that day job.
For the rest of the day, emails flew back and forth tweaking wording and pricing. It felt like a joint endeavor to kick the next session off right – something I’d been sorely missing for a first session that was hastily thrown together after weeks of delays.
It’s been a depressing few days, as a job that would have paid me what I want and allowed me to work from home was waved in front of me like a cookie before a toddler, then snatched away just as I began to sink my teeth into it. I wasn’t even looking for it; didn’t know it was there. An old college friend breezed into town and told me I had to sit down with his boss to discuss running their communications department. I left our impromptu lunch with him clearly stating he wanted to hire me. But the partner I didn’t meet overruled him. Or so I was told.
Today’s excitement and anticipation was small but important. I needed to feel something going right. And I got what I needed.