That morning started not very early, or rather at three o'clock in the afternoon. After sleeping for nine hours, I tried to understand where I was, why I was so thirsty, and what had actually happened.
I was at home, my faithful Richard nearby, thirsty because yesterday there had been beer, then vodka, then champagne (after the pub, May and I had emptied the mini-bar in her room), tequila, and whiskey. The good news is that my head didn’t hurt, the bad news is that I was terribly hungry and thirsty, and I didn't want to get out of bed. This is what men are for – to pick you up after a bachelorette party with friends, help you change, feed you activated charcoal, tuck you in, and in the morning bring cold beer or shawarma, or better yet – both.
I take out my phone. 5 messages from some unknown number:
Hi, girlfriend! How’s your health? Should I order you beer and fast food delivery to make it easier to cope with the hangover?
Are you asleep or what?
Get up, sleepyhead. I'm already on my way to New York. And by the way, I don't have any pain. The morning bath definitely did me good.
By the way, do you remember our bet? There are exactly six months left!
Text me when you wake up.
May. This is my friend May. My classmate, whom I considered the worst person on the planet and who, in just a few hours and a few bottles of strong alcohol, told me more about her life than my ex-boyfriend did. And to whom I entrusted my biggest secrets.
Damn it! We made a bet yesterday. That in six months I have to radically change my life – find a boyfriend whom I would truly love, increase my income level, and most importantly – be happy. If I win, May promised to gift me my lifelong dream – a Volvo S90 in the maximum configuration.
I imagine sitting behind the wheel of my little car, pressing the START button, turning on Frank Sinatra. Outside, snow is falling, it’s very cold. And inside my little car, it’s warm and smells of tangerines – I specifically bought such a fragrant thing to remind myself that the New Year is coming soon. I leisurely drive along the highway, listening to my favorite artists, adding a little gas to make it in time for family movie night to watch "Home Alone." A dream…
But if I lose, I will work for May as her personal assistant for six months. Not the worst scenario, you might say – but for me, it would be pure torture. I hate working in an office, I hate working face-to-face with people, and that’s why I work like a prisoner from my apartment and feel quite happy in my place.
What should I do to be sitting in a Volvo S90 in six months, instead of preparing coffee for May? Another text message.
“I hope you’re already awake. How's your day?”
I text May back that I’m alive and well, put on a tracksuit, and set off in search of coffee and food.
I walk into “Starbucks” nearby. I order a croissant, a double espresso, and start contemplating the plan for my new life. By the way, May and I agreed that for the purity of the experiment, for the entire time, we would only text each other if necessary. This way, I would have more motivation to win, and she wouldn't have the temptation to help me.
While waiting for my coffee, I decide to ask for help from the smartest creature in the world – Google. “How to change your life?” – I type and press Enter. Self-development courses, coaching interviews, psychologist's website, personal consultations with a gestalt therapist, and – of course – courses by Iren Cheery. I get frustrated, open Google again, and decide to have breakfast in silence as much as possible in a noisy café.
-Hi! I would like to take all my unused vacation time along with the "balance days".
Balance days are another reason to love my job. They are additional days added to vacation – a kind of "milk" given for the harmfulness of the work.
-Hi. Wow, something happened? – my HR colleague Jane writes.
-No, I just want to rest and recharge.
-You have accumulated as many as 60 working days there. That’s four calendar months. Are you sure you want to take ALL the vacation? – probably my request looks quite strange. – After all, you’ve never taken it before. And now suddenly all the days.
-Yes, Jane. I want to take a vacation for 60 working days.
-Okay, I’ll send the application to you. After you fill it out, I’ll pass it to Iren for approval. I think I’ll let you know this evening whether she approved it or not.
-Okay, thank you so much!
Four months is most of the time I have to change my life. Moreover, I will receive vacation pay. That's also a big plus. Maybe I could leave the city entirely and go to a small town to concentrate on myself? If I don't splurge, I will have enough funds. And a change of scenery will help not only physically but also mentally recharge.
The rest of the day passes searching rental housing websites. I found a few options that meet my requirements – a house in a town or village, no more than 15 km from the city, where I can live with a cat and which is rented for four months. I don’t want to spend the precious time I could use for “acquiring” a Volvo moving from one rural cabin to another. Right now it’s April – the weather is getting warmer, the sun rises earlier, the days are lengthening, so I’ll have plenty of time to spend in nature.
I hear the sound of an email. Jane. My heart stops because it’s very scary to read on the screen “your vacation is not approved, sorry”. After all, combining self-improvement with a regular nine-to-five job will be very difficult.
-Iren approved it! Congratulations! In two days, your “almost maternity” leave begins. – Jane writes, and with each of her words, my smile grows wider.
-Class, Jane, thank you so much!
-Don't be a stranger, write occasionally. Otherwise, you'll completely disappear from the radar.
-Deal! – I reply and start calling the ads for house rentals.