Bullets You Dodged

In My Humble Opinion
1

In MPSIMS there’s a thread about things you most regret. Let’s turn it around: are some things that almost went wrong, but you pulled the iron out of the fire just in time? In other words, a decision you made or action you took that could very well have gone the other way, but in retrospect you’re delighted you did what you did?

For me, it’s NOT going into corporate banking. I was doing quite well in those interviews my senior year, and it seemed the normal trajectory for my skills, abilities, major etc. But a very keen HR person really probed me. She said they wanted to make me an offer but she just got this feeling like maybe it wasn’t what I wanted. And at that moment, I realized she was right.

I stopped interviewing, took an odd job for the summer, ended up working in the crappily-compensated-but-interesting field of admissions, and came to realize that higher ed was where I wanted to spend my professional life (although not in admissions). Since then, I’ve been so happy. I can’t imagine myself putting on a blue suit & pantyhose every day and spending my lunch hour wondering when to start an evening MBA program. I mean, nothing wrong with that life–it’s just not me. Yet I came awfully damn close to signing on for that.

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  1. [bump]
  2. Don’t know if this counts, but: my freshman year of college, I was taking a course with many, many papers assigned. The professor was a “no extensions, no excuses, no late papers” type. So of course one day I don’t have a paper finished which is due that afternoon. Thinking quickly, I visit a friend with an inkjet printer. I print the first page fine, then as the second page begins to print, I grab it and pull it out of the printer, crumpling it and smearing the ink. Then in class:

“Professor L!” I exclaimed. “I’m so bad with computers, and I have no idea what’s wrong with my printer! Look what it did to my paper!”

“I understand,” she said, “computers mystify me, too. Take a couple days to get that printer fixed, then hand me the paper.”

[Disclosure: I was a computer consultant throughout college and held a management positition in the dep’t for 1.5 years.]

  1. Hi Opal!

  2. CrankyAsAnOldMan, you’re in college admissions? I didn’t know that…

3

Well, I’ve been shot at and missed. Literally.
If that ain’t dodging a bullet, I don’t know what is!

still in one piece,
TN*hippie

4

I almost married a guy who would not have been right for me. Probably not a very unusual story, but it really would have been an unhappy marriage. We were perfect on the surface for each other (same religion, upbringing, etc.), but it would have been like a brother and sister getting married. We knew each other and dated for so many years that we really grew apart as lovers before we knew it. Great friends, but no passion! So we would have been left with an ultimately uninteresting marriage, because divorce would have most likely been out of the question.

It’s funny; he dumped me, and I sure didn’t like it when it happened, and it took awhile to get over it. But I got to see what it was really like to do a lot of things on my own that most adults take for granted, that I had really never done before, and gaining that kind of independence has really been something.

5

In the “Regrets” thread, I wrote that I regretted not studying Latin in high school. I DON’T regret taking four years of French in high school, though. As I explained in the “Regrets” thread, my only choices in ninth grade were Spanish and French. I’m glad that I picked French instead of Spanish. When I decided to become a medieval scholar, I learned that French would be far more useful for medieval studies than Spanish. I knew then that I had made the right decision in ninth grade.

Another decision that I DON’T regret is giving up pre-medicine to become a literature major. I was too squeamish and emotional to become a doctor, and I’m glad that I figured that out before it was too late. I’m glad that I didn’t waste four years earning a pre-medical B. S. degree in biology, chemistry, or biochemistry, a degree that I would never have used. Instead, I earned my B. A. and M. A. degrees in literature, and I am working towards a Ph. D. in medieval literature. Someday I will be a college professor.

I am also glad that I did NOT give in to my first boyfriend’s requests for sex. I could not have sex with him because I wanted to save myself for marriage. I was also terrified of becoming pregnant. If we HAD done it, and I had become pregnant, I would have had to keep the child. I would never have thought for a moment of aborting it, and I probably wouldn’t have been able to bear to give it up for adoption. If I had given in to him, today I would be the married, single, or divorced mother of a 14-year-old child. Instead, I am a single, childless virgin. I know that I did the right thing by not giving in.

6

I’ve really not lived long enough to have such experiences, but I’ve dodged more real bullets than I count. Wait, actually I can. Probably about 12. I used to get mugged everytime I went to the store after school to buy a drink. Goddamn gangsters.

7

Damn my mistakes.

8

I was engaged to marry a 25-yr-old man who had never moved out of his parents’ house. He’d bought a POS house down the road–a house that had no running water and nothing in the kitchen but walls–but his mom guilted him out of moving into it (or fixing it up). His parents are both at least 400 pounds and he’s the reliable son (of three) who takes care of them, so it’s a good bet there’s going to be a big job someday when one or both parents’ health problems kick in and Bubba and his wife have to nurse them. Imagine helping a 400-pound person go to the bathroom. His first ever plane trip was with me, and it was his first trip without his parents and his first trip out of the general area where they lived. He called his mom twice every single day, including calling from a pay phone at Disneyland.

He was a smart guy, and funny, and could have done a lot with his life if he had the courage to leave his parents. But I thank Heaven I didn’t marry him. It blows my mind that I used to be in love with that guy.

He’s married now, and he doesn’t live in his parents’ house anymore, but he lives in his wife’s grandmother’s house, last I heard. He never fixed up the house he bought.

Oh yeah, and no one in his family had any health insurance. His wife’s pregnant.

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At least two that I’m acutely aware of:

  1. College boyfriend, eminantly marriagable, everyone love him. I made sure he knew that marriage was not in the future for the two of us. Immediately after we broke up, he married his next girlfriend, he’s now a minister and father of five. They borrow $$ from their parents all the time. Not my life style thank you. (I still am friends w/his youngest sister, so I know stuff about him now).

  2. Applied for and interviewed for a job with the State. I’d long wanted this sort of position, and one opened up. The two men that interviewed me had known and respected me for years and I knew that if I wanted the job, it was mine.

During the interview, I learned that both the men who were doing the interviewing (and would have been the supervisors w/in that office) were going to retire shortly. I re-evaluated at that point and took myself out of the running. Since then, that office (of 30 employees) has roughly a 1/3 turn over rate every 4 or so years. Out of the 15 people that had been at that office for any lenght of time (at that time) only one remains. Most took lateral or even downward transfers. The woman who took that job only lasted for about 8 or 9 years herself.

10

Well, you know the girl I mentioned in the “Regrets” thread, the one who married an ex of mine? I almost married him myself. I was twenty-one years old, he was my first boyfriend, and I was utterly convinced that I was defective merchandise and nobody else would ever want to go out with me. Looking back on it, of course, I thought so because he told me so. (Actual quote: “I love you because you’re not very pretty.” I was, alas, too insecure to slap him in the face.)

Whew. Unfortunately I can’t take much credit for dodging any bullets, as I was the one who got dumped. Then again, it may have had something to do with the fact that I refused to cut off my family and friends at his request, as his fiancee eventually did.

11

I was in the process of getting into West Point. I had all the paperwork in, and I had the recommendation from a Senator just about lined up. (I guess he owed my uncle a few favors, but hey, you take advantage of what you can.) All I had to do was take the physical exam and a few other small things and I probably would have been in.

My plan was to study military law and make a career out of it. 20 years and out, then maybe a second career. At the beginning of my senior year, I decided that I was too young to make that long of a commitment and gave it up.

A few years after high school, I finally came to the conclusion that I was gay. I had suspected, but hadn’t come to a definite decision until then. I am so glad I didn’t go. I am out, and I now cannot even imagine having to hide it for over 20 years. I’m real glad I dodged that one.

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OK – this is pretty trivial compared to the intent of the thread, but I was reminded of it.

Junior year, electrical engineering. Antenna design. I was partying and blew off the homework.

The professor announces: “Every homework paper contains the same error. It isn’t an error that more than one person would be likely to make. Obviously, one person did the homework and everyone else copied it. So everyone in the class gets two F’s on the assignment. Except you, Mr. Chromium – you only get one since you didn’t bother to turn in anything at all.”

Imagine my feeling of worthless integrity.

13

The latest bullet I dodged was in moving from the small newspaper I was at to the mid-sized newspaper several states away. Last October, I finished off the last of a long list of home improvements, and we were itching to get out of Dodge.

This took TEN MONTHS to accomplish:

  • October and November: send out resumes, get off work for a week to drive over the Mid-Atlantic (five interviews in six days)

  • January: move up to take job in January while wife and kids say behind, stay in basement apartment for SIX MONTHS while shopping for new home and working. Meanwhile, the house is on the market and nobody’s buying. We drop the price, twice.

  • During this time, a house up here comes up for sale. Needs work, but in a good location and the price is not bad. But . . . even though we could afford it, wife digs in heels over the price. It’s not worth X, she says. Offer X-$10K. I’m puzzled; she really, really wants this house, but not at this price.

OK, we offer X-$10K. And the seller, who’s house has been on the market for nearly a year, balks. Seriously balks. Yells at her agent for even giving her the offer (even though he’s obliged by law to do so). Doesn’t even come back with a counter-offer.

We sigh, envisioning dream house go bye-bye.

  • July: end of lease on basement apartment. I need to move. Then, a house comes up, in same neighborhood but at the top of our price range. Wife not up there, so I make the command decision. My wife cries when she sees the pictures of the house. It’s a ranch, and she didn’t want a ranch. It also looks crappy.

(Note to other husbands: When you make a major decision on your own, your wife will receive buckets of sympathy for the boneheaded decision you obviously made.)

But we’re committed, and ** glory be! ** the house finally sells! Over Fourth of July weekend, I fly down, finish packing up the goods (wife did most of this, and church friends helped with the rest) and we drive North to Freedom.

Yeah? So? Here’s the trick: two months ago, company at my new job institutes a hiring freeze. Economy tanks. Jobs in my industry become very very hard to find. Friends of ours back home can’t sell their one-owner home in a nice neighborhood, despite the price being $10,000 below what other homes are going for. We went through 10 months of stress and moving hell, only to land on our feet, safe (for now, knock wood) at a better job, with more money, in a larger house that I’m surprised we could still afford on my salary.

If we had waited until the summer to put the house up, we may or may not have been able to sell it, but finding a job would have been very very dicey.

And my wife loves the house . . .

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I once interviewed for a dot com. The interviewer was a condescending prick, and they offered me a position below the one I interviewed for. It was still for more money than my current job, but I was insulted so I turned them down and decided to stick with my current company.

I bet you can guess what happened to them.

15

Three different girls.

One, my first serious lover. Lovely girl, 6’, “B” cups, thick, true blonde hair down to her knees. Stunning knock-out beauty. Also mentally unaballanced, although it took a couple of years for this to surface. She stalked me for years afterwards (not too creepy, but kinda sad and needy). My family all had a notion, one that I wouldn’t/couldn’t get, that she wasn’t all there, but they didn’t try too hard to drive it home to me, for fear of alienating me. Since then, they’ve stonewalled her completely when she’s attempted to track me down. Last time one of my family saw her, she was in sad shape, physically, mentally, and econmically. I should really listen to my family more often.

Two, a nice sweet girl, sexy in all the girl-next-door ways, and not at all shy about going for what she wants. It seems that she has some serious issues about saying “no” to strange men, and has a real inability to predict the results of her actions. She’s lost two marriages, lost both of her sons to the state, and wound up in jail for drug-related charges (and I’m not talking mere ‘possesion’). Now, irony of ironies, I’ve got the job of tracking her down for the class reunion committee.

Three, another pretty face, sharp mind, damaged soul. She was a paraplegic, a state-class runner in high school when she fell off a roof and busted her spine between L4 and L5. I met her playing paintball, of all things. In those days, I was damned athletic, and was proud of my ability to turn a long sneaking skulk into a lighning dash for the flag. Imagine my surprise as I leaped into my patented blazing-dash-of-victory[sup]tm[/sup], only to be lit-up about a dozen times by a hidden sniper with stunning reflexes and dead-eye aim. Imagine my further surprise when I discovered the bush I was planning on using to screen my escape was the sniper and her wheelchair! It wasn’t long after that that we were inseperable. Despite her paralysis, she was still a formidable athelete! Lord, but I was in awe! I had her all but to the altar when the other shoe dropped. Actually, it was an Imelda Marcos Closet Of Shoes[sup]tm[/sup]. She had been repeatedly raped by her stepdad as a child. The same stepdad that she was working with when she stepped backwards off the roof. Also one of her uncles. She forbade me from taking appropriate action, upon pain of our seperation. I (fool!) agreed, very reluctantly. Then I find out that her snake-twisted-mind younger sister was jealous of the rape! GAH! And that said sister was using my financee’s disability as a lever to physically abuse her when she thought no one was looking. As the wedding came closer, she became progressively more abusive, and I actually caught her at it one day (my first realazation that it was happening). I was again forbidden to act (“It’ll be better when we’re married. She won’t be able to get me then…” AUUGH!) I’d known about her string of romances with bad dudes and hardcases, but then, New Years Eve, when I came to pick her up to go to party (just a couple of weeks from the big date), she was nowhere to be found. Her roomate said she’d gone out that afternoon with “some guy”. She never came back that night. I went nuts. I had the police, my friends, and even her (much hated) family turning the town upside down looking for her, terrified-to-the-point-of-vomiting that she was kidnapped or dead, trapped and unable to get to help, or suffering any of a thousand other horrible fates.

Around 6am she came thought the door, sweetfaced and smiling, a fresh hickey on her neck, telling me she was taking up with a former flame, because I was too nice, and she couldn’t survive it, after how I’d been to her, and all we’d meant to each other, if I should turn out to be an asshole, too. She dumped me, rather than take the chance that I might be a jerk. She dumped me in the cruellest fashion she could, to be sure I never came back. I treated her like a lady and a lover, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t handle it

I took leave, and wept for weeks.

Those are my near-misses.

16

My first “real” job was at a defense contractor in a small town about 45 minutes outside of Dallas. I detested the job: the company was definitely a redneck “good old boys” club (most women were secretaries), my position was new and nebulous (nobody really knew what I should be doing) and the actual process of building planes was mystifying.

Anyhow, I managed to stick it out for over a year (they had moved me out, so I couldn’t quit for a year or I’d have to pay back the moving costs) and at the end managed to get involved in an SAP end user training project that started to open a lot of doors for me.

I started a big job search in the spring of 99 when SAP training was a very hot job market. In one week, I had 3 job offers. I took the offer with DA Consulting group, a smallish end user training outfit that was based in Houston. They wanted me for the Dallas office, so we picked up and moved (on our own dime) to Dallas.

10 days after I started the job, they laid me off. I was absolutely devastated, did the very unprofessional “burst into tears in the manager’s office” etc.

A very rocky 2 months later, I got the job of my dreams at Microsoft (yes, yes, the evil empire, it’s a great place to work). I love my job, the work I do, my team, my manager, the Seattle area, the job related opportunites for world travel. I would have hated the DA job, I could tell even after 10 days. The company was too small and obviously cliquish.

When I want to amuse myself, I check out their spiraling into the abyss stock prices! (When I was offered the job it was at $20.00 a share, it’s at 30 cents today, up 5 cents! ha ha) I definitely dodged the bullet.

17

Man, Tranquilis, you did dodge a few bullets. Thanks for sharing with us.

Are you married now?

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You don’t know the half of it, bluethree, I’ve only scratched the surface. I’ve lead an… Eventful… life.

Yes, I’m married now, quite hapily for the last 9 years. Mrs.Tranq is tough, smart, dangerous, and strong. She’s also got a wicked, twisty sense of humor, and a loving streak wider than I can see. On top of all that, she’s even actually impressed with me!

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve her, but I count myself blessed by the Lord.

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cant get into details, but i denied any knowledge of the crime and havent heard a word since!

20

Situation - in the exit of a small-town beer store parking-lot, trying to get out of there with bruised, lacerated, and very drunk friend in passenger side seat. Her strung-out boyfriend is standing in front of my car with a pump shotgun pointed at my head.

My Assessment - I’m about to get my head blown off.

My Reaction - I floor the accelerator and the clutch.

Result - abusive boyfriend shows a bit more common sense than usual and lowers shotgun and gets out of the way.