Death of a Salesman...

Moving to Detroit I brought almost every material item of mine. TV, Computer, Bedding, clothing, and the list goes on. What I still have a hard time understanding is why I brought a shovel. Still there it is, leaning against the side on the cracked painted house of 1900 Brockton. It's your typical shovel with a large wooden handle and a metal spade with dried dirt on it. After the first week of training I went to our small back yard and broke the ground with it. With a solid push it broke the surface. Some grass turned over and small pile of dirt started to form. Weeks would go on and a good size hole started to form. The pile of dirt grew larger.

I haven't liked my job from day one. Whenever I buy a new book it's safe to say I'm going to find a NYC bestseller. Like most people I look at the cover, whatever grabs my attention. However there have been some books I've read where the cover didn't intrigue me, but the story that resulted was one that never had dog eared corners. I was constantly turning the pages. I knew I couldn't judge a job by the first day or the first week. Still, time doesn't stop, it moves on and so do we. As time progressed my opinion held strong. It did not waver, but like a flag in the wind was outstretched. My head was telling me all the reasons I was unhappy. Leaving friends, leaving family, leaving a lifestyle I was accustomed too. Still now and then we need to stop listening to our head and listen with our hearts. My heart beats regulary and much like the life sustaining beat it tells me day in day out that this isn't the place for me. Maybe someday in the future my heart will say Detroit and the automotive industry. In the meantime it is beating to a different rhythm. A beat I can feel deep inside me, a beat that I am trying to find the source of.

Two months have passed here in the Midwest. Two months of learning. This coming weekend I am following my heart. I am boarding a plane to Texas. I am pursuing a different career. There is a chance that I won't get hired. A very likely chance and that is a fact that scares me right to my core. I am confident in what I can achieve, yet sometimes no matter what effort we put in the results come out to our disliking.

In the meantime you can find me in the backyard digging. Every passing day the guilt inside me grows. Ford will recover the financial cost of one David John Hoffman or company id dhoffm38. There have been co-workers who have effected my life and now ones I have effected. There is a trust relationship. A relationship in which great work is expected now and into the foreseable future. I have started to measure my future in weeks and no longer the years that I thought moving here. The guilt is crushing me. The longer I stay the deeper the hole. I've dug myself deep enough that it's becoming hard to see the top. This metaphorical hole is now 6 feet deep. While I'm not dead, this guilt is killing me.