Over the years, I've done more than my fair share of complaining about my commute to and from work. Twenty years ago, it was delays on the MARC train as I headed in to Union Station. Next, it became interminable back-ups on New York Avenue as I traipsed in to Dupont Circle. Then, I had to deal with two hour trips on the Beltway home from McLean. No matter where I've worked, I haven't been able to escape traffic.
Today, I actually missed being stuck in traffic. Let me tell you why.
Shortly after 5:30PM, I was sitting in the basement, trying once more to log onto one of the company's numerous financial systems. I needed to approve a payment to a vendor. Of course, when I tried to log-on to the system, I got a prompt saying that it had been 90 days since I had last changed my password. That meant I needed to create a new one. I did that and then went back to the log-on screen. No dice. The stupid system wouldn't accept my new password. After trying to enter it a second and then a third time, I got a message saying I'd exceeded the number of attempts and was being shut out permanently. In order to get back in, I'd need to call my "system administrator."
Call my "system administrator." Who the hell was that? I had no idea. Do you think they could give me a phone number? Nope. Just a message to make that call.
That was it. While it was only 5:30PM, it had been a long day filled with one internal snafu after another. I logged off, grabbed my empty water glass, and turned off the light. I was fuming as I headed up the basement stairs to the kitchen. I couldn't wait to start complaining to Kim about all the crap I'd had to put up with during the day.
When I got to the kitchen, I found that no one was there. Kim was off picking Jay up from soccer practice. When I realized that she wasn't around, I wasn't too happy. I had some stuff I wanted to get off my chest and I needed an audience. Where was Kim? Didn't she want to listen to me rant and rave about my horrible day?
That's when it hit me. God had created long commutes filled with slow-moving traffic so that stressed-out workers like me could unwind before they got home to their families. All those long trips home had probably helped to save countless marriages. I know that the time I spent in the car on the way home helped me calm down and forget the petty issues that had driven me crazy all day.
I'm thinking that the solution may just be to leave the basement, head straight to the garage, and hop in the car for a twenty-minute drive around Howard County. As silly as that sounds, I think I may be in trouble if I don't do it.
This is where the magic happens.
