The view of the Mississippi was tranquil, the April air unseasonably warm. From the rooftop terrace I watched the occasional barge chug past on the river far below, its prow cleaving the current and pushing aside waves which surged but then slowly diminished before finally disappearing below the seawall. As each barge passed I'd salute the captain, visible only as a silhouette high up in the wheelhouse, tipping my coffee mug in tribute and imagining we had some connection, though he surely couldn't see me at all.
It was the first pleasant weekend of the year, and I was intent on enjoying the day as much as I could, basking in sun and warmth despite the looming mass of financial statements, regulatory filings and handwritten notes piled before me on the steel table of the café. The weather had finally turned mild, winter departed and the last of the snow melted away, but being confined to my cubicle for fourteen hours a day prevented me from enjoying the first warm spring days. So on this Sunday I resolved to enjoy the outdoors, even though I still had work to do.
Somehow things worked out for me. All those hours scouring out-of-town want ads in the Champaign library, all those resumés mailed off and followup calls to employers who didn't respond promptly and phone interviews that went nowhere and companies that said no or didn't even bother saying no: it all finally paid off. That terrible limbo may have lasted only three months, but it was the longest three months of my life, a quietly desperate time of self-doubt, a trial which I hope to never endure again.
Long story short: one of those resumés lead to a phone interview with Preston Jeffers, one of the biggest brokerage firms in the Midwest, and then a callback and a long drive to Minneapolis—though the air conditioning was completely gone, a freak August cool spell made the car bearable—for a long day of interviews. Then, implausibly, impossibly, incredibly, a job offer which I humbly accepted. Minnesota was far from my first choice—more like third—but I was in no position to turn it down. It was either there or home to my parents. Back in Champaign, over the phone I hurriedly arranged corporate housing with the company and began to pack up my things.