Having a “regular job” the past 7 ½ years hasn’t been the norm for me. Project work, consulting, tutoring, along with freelancing, sprinkled a few other “moonlighting” gigs have gotten me through. This followed what felt at the time was being “kicked to the curve.” A role I was perfectly suited for and really loved being in, ended when our idiot governor at the time thought he knew better than anyone how the state’s workforce development system functioned, and de-funded parts of it. His petulance at the time affected me directly and ended six years of successful local and statewide initiatives.

In August, I went back to work. My new position is a part-time one. I’m still surviving as a writer. This requires maintaining a patchwork-quilt of income streams. I’m also spending a few Saturdays each month advising young drivers on safer practices behind the wheel.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure embracing change would end well, or even last more than a few weeks. But I’d been a satisfied consumer at this not-for-profit committed to delivering healthcare in a way that still values the patient, so I knew firsthand that their core values were genuine. When I learned they were looking for people with customer service experience and skills, I applied.

Being in a healthcare setting as an employee isn’t that far afield for me. One of my better jobs I had found me landing at Healthsource back in 1997, when they were still locally managed.

I joined Healthsource along with an amazing group of people. We all came from various places and work experiences. Yet, we developed a collegiality that’s all-too-rare in a work setting. Then, Cigna swooped in and things changed overnight. In a manner of six months, most of us had gone elsewhere, along with the management team. Corporate culture is soul-less, and Cigna’s was awful.

Change is hard.

I’m reminded of those days during my four weekly shifts answering calls from patients in a contact center. The contact center has only been open for a year. There have been growing pains, as centralizing and standardizing how patients access services was a decision made as the way to go (and grow).

Many of us have been there for less than six months. This contributes to the freshness and energy that in part driven by the “honeymoon” that most of us feel in a new job. But it’s more than that, I think. I’ve observed a genuine attempt to balance business needs with valuing the people who form the core of the customer experience.

I’m not easily impressed. No one would ever mistake me for being a Pollyanna. Yet, the initial training and ongoing support has been far superior to any other place where I’ve been employed. That includes an iconic customer service model that’s headquartered not far from where I’m currently working. Having spent a number of holiday seasons taking customer calls and understanding that customers are #1, I can say that the training where I’m at far exceeds that prior employment experience.

That doesn’t mean that my first 10+ weeks on the job haven’t been without a few speed bumps. I’ve even had days when I’ve left my car in the parking garage muttering under my breath, “this job sucks.” I’m sure that would be the case wherever I decided to park my skillset at work. At least where I’m at now, the pay is adequate, the benefits are excellent, and as call centers go, this one is a nice match with what I’m capable of delivering.

I was reminded that I made a good choice on Tuesday. We got to spend a half day in a team-building activity. The contact center stopped taking calls at 11:00 and our various clinics closed. This allowed sites and co-workers the opportunity to have a bit of fun, solidify work relationships, while also receiving important updates from management.

Since Mark was killed, I find it difficult to sit through BS and happy talk. During the first hour of our work retreat, I contemplated standing up and walking out. A few coworkers exited for various reasons. I suppose I could have come up with an excuse if I’d wanted to. I’m glad I stuck it out.

I found others who didn’t love various games and participating in Jenga, Cornhole, or other activities. Fun is fine—I’m just not a game-player by nature.

This small coterie was standing in the corner and I opted to try to inject myself in their conversation. I asked, “is this the non-game contingent?” They were actually talking about “poop.” Go figure.

Sometimes though, you have to push through the poop, right?

We learned that we shared similarities—geographically, knowing my new Biddeford neighbors and other elements from my time in Brunswick—as well as being empathetic in a way that’s been all-too-rare in my experience since losing Mark. One of them used to be directly involved with one of those old-fashioned red sauce Italian restaurants that Mary and I remember, but not with melancholy, have disappeared. This one was in Brunswick. Anyone remember Vincenzo’s, or simply, “Vinny’s” on Cushing Street? My mouth is watering thinking about signature dishes like eggplant parmigiana.

Like Graziano’s in my former hometown of Lisbon, Vincenzo’s (like Sportsman’s Grill and The Village Café in Portland) are no more. Change is always hard.

Speaking of change, one of them presented during the management/information segment. She shared about the stages of change. As a new contact center, we’re all experiencing these ups and downs. She handed out a laminated graphic similar to this one. I looked at it and said to another co-worker who knows my story, “these are the stages of grief.” Unbeknownst to me, this is based upon Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s model about the five stages of grief.

Change is hard. It involves periods of being angry, despondent, and then, our outlook shifts. We never transcend the event that caused the floor of our life to open up and put two parents into free fall, but things do change. Sometimes, joy and understanding even make fleeting appearances.

I’m grateful that I work with a group of people that more often than not are genuine. They may never become best friends and our work day doesn’t allow much inter-mingling, but I’m glad to be on a team of individuals who are both human and humane.