Anna's Goals for Amazon. Or Is It Annazon?

It's not. I'll address that later, but first:

It's my final day of freedom. Well, technically, I have Saturday and Sunday, but those don't count because it's a weekend. I've taken to using the apartment patio as my personal living room since PODS and I had a misunderstanding leaving me temporarily without a television. It took me awhile to figure out the TV this morning, but I refused to ask for help because I'm pretty sure everyone at the front desk is convinced I do nothing but spend money on packages and wait in my apartment to collect them. I assure them I will have a job come Monday.

I'll have a job come Monday. I'm so excited to begin my job! I'm not excited because I think it's going to be easy. On the contrary, I'm excited because I think it's going to be hard. I plan on it being hard. I want to be overwhelmed, take deep breaths, solve problems and learn. I'll probably cry, because I cry a lot.

I started studying for the GMAT November of 2014. I've put in nearly four years of work - and a whole heap of down time - to get my ass kicked. I don't have anyone in my life I need to prioritize, I don't have children, and I have yet to commit to a life of service in a convent. So, yes, I'm excited to get my ass kicked.

Per usual, when entering a new phase of life, I find it valuable to set goals. These aren't SMART* goals. I get the idea of SMART goals, but I don't know how I feel about this for my personal life, because I fixate on the numbers. For instance, I realized I'm about to turn 30; then, I considered whether or not I had hit 30 countries before the age of 30. I began to panic. Is St. John a country or an island? Should I classify a country by whether or not it's eligible for Miss Universe? Or acknowledged by the UN? Does it count if I spent one night in Columbia or not? Should I just drive up to Canada to make sure it's marked off the list? I think numbers can defeat the purpose sometimes, so some goals may seem vague, but here we go.

I think it's a bit much to expect the company to change the name to Annazon - they'd have to change the packaging, the domain name, not to mention all of the prodding into my uneventful personal life of binge-watching West Wing when the media learns it's become my namesake - but I like to think I can still make my dome-sized mark. This leads me to my first and highest priority.

1. Double dome selfie with Jeff Bezos. The man has an impeccable dome, and it would be a great addition to my coffee table book.

2. Don't lock myself out of my apartment. The door automatically locks every time I close it. The current over/under on me locking myself out is seven months, in the middle of winter when I enter a zombie like state of indifference. I'd like to bet on myself to hit the over.

3. Let's be honest, I talk too much to carry mystique. I need to let that one go. I can, however, keep my high school nickname a secret for more than a week.

4. Become a monger. Such a cool title. Can you be a monger of anything? Maybe I'll be a wine monger. Or, the first tech monger at Amazon.

Okay, but for real:

1. Double dome selfie. No sarcasm there. Equally important: find friends with boats.

2. Look for ways to serve others, inside and outside of work, in small ways and in large ways.

3. Be a connector. I almost said maven, but that would give the MO department at Ross too much satisfaction. Even connector sounds like a cringe-worthy business school term, but I can't think of a better one. I think I have a face that says, "Tell me your life story", as evidenced by the gardener who has just given me an extended lesson in horticulture while explaining her career path. I'm comfortable reaching out, and I'm pretty good at getting outside my bubble, though we could always be better. I will do something with these three qualities.

4. Figure out a sustainable, healthy, workout pattern. I enjoy so many activities. Crossfit, tennis, hiking, eating good food, drinking good drinks, meeting new people. I have to work somewhere in there, and my body doesn't recover quite like it did, so I need to carefully consider where I spend my time and what I put into my body. Example of what not to do: the last two months of business school.

5. Get my name in front of the right people. Coming from small companies, I've never really had to navigate a hierarchy, but I could have done a better job of that in business school. For instance, I got rejected for a minuscule public speaking gig* because the leaders had never heard me speak. You and I both know I'm a phenomenal speaker, but the right people didn't.

6. Write more for myself. Believe it or not, this blog only contains 20% of my thoughts. I want to start recording 30% of the other 80% for my memoirs I will write by the age of 40. In doing so, I want to be braver in my writing, addressing opinions not everyone will hold. I picture myself walking around with a note pad, constantly reflecting, however, I have terrible handwriting, and my hand cramps because I hold pens incorrectly, so I have to think about my tactic a bit more.

7. Be a sponge. Learn as much as I can, and consider what is most valuable for the next step in my illustrious career.

One of the reasons I'm excited is because I know I'm not doing this alone. I have a Bible verse for phases of life, and the one that speaks to me most currently is, “The eyes of the Lord search the whole earth in order to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him.” Being fully committed is the goal of a lifetime, but knowing that I have a strength greater than my own is exciting.

The match is still going on. Wimbledon doesn't have a tiebreak the fifth set, so theoretically, it could go on forever. Eight years ago, Isner played a 13 hour match before progressing. Can we first acknowledge what an unbelievable feat of athleticism it is for two men to be on the court, playing every point, for over six hours? It goes without saying that it's exhausting for the players, but what about the following semifinal match? Nadal and Djokovic are ready to play. They're ready to compete. The ability to compete - to work hard - is a privilege. Not privilege in the PC way that compels you to apologize for something you have no control over, but the privilege that compels you to capitalize on the opportunity presented to you, because there are so many others who, for a variety of reasons, don't have that opportunity. They've been staying warm on the sidelines, but I guarantee, when this match ends, they'll be pumped to get on that court and begin competing. I've been waiting on the sidelines. I'm ready to compete.


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* Though I very rarely do that.
* The only letter I remember is Measurable, which is the one I have a problem with
* That I didn't apply for

Being Single as a Tennis Match

Being single is like a tennis match*. Some games are hard, an absolute grind. Though you know you have the support of fans behind the fence**, and you hear the guidance of your coach, you want nothing more than to look someone directly in the eye, one foot in front of you, and hear them tell you, “You got this. Let’s go,” in a voice that embraces you with confidence. After you nail a winner, you want to turn to that partner, feel the touch of the hand as you high five, and share that moment of victory.

But then there are times you’re on the court, and everything’s clicking. Your strokes are flawless, your placement is perfection, and in those moments, you’re content you’re alone on the court – even grateful you don’t have to carry a teammate and have the freedom to focus only on your game. You don’t need a high five. Your own fist pump is more than enough.

I still have some time before work, so last week, I decided to take a solo trip. I could have stayed in Seattle and stopped hemorrhaging money, but that seemed silly. Plus, I made myself a promise when I decided to move: I was going to absorb the most I could that Washington and the Pacific Northwest have to offer. What better time to start than the present?

I booked myself a log cabin in the Cascades, complete with a jacuzzi bathtub, a glorious bed that tempted one to stay in all day, and a porch surrounded by nothing but the rustling of the forest leaves and the rushing river.

The week was lovely, a perfect reset – that is, after the first night in which I could barely sleep because I was anxiously planning all the relaxing I needed to do.

I went kayaking. I learned that two cans of wine are equal to one bottle, which was a sad realization as I was paddling away on the lake, contemplating opening the second can. You see, drinking two cans of beer does not seem excessive, but drinking a bottle of wine seems a bit much. On the other hand, if you just re-frame drinking a bottle of wine as drinking two cans, maybe it doesn’t sound as bad. I decided to refrain, mostly because I didn’t want to fall asleep in my kayak and wake up toppling into water like Ann of Green Gables.

I hiked a peak, my first in Washington, talking to myself most of the time, plotting the next steps in my world takeover.*** I used a walking stick, not for the utility, but because it makes me feel like Moses. Segue… I only experienced one hiccup when I got confused about where the trail was so began scaling the side of the waterfall, lamenting the fact that my shoes didn’t have better grip. After roughly 50 feet, I realized I just had to cross the stream at the bottom. I don’t know if I’m in worse shape than I was in Virginia – well, that’s not true, I know I am – or if it’s because the mountains are bigger, but it was a great workout.

I talked to others as well. The couple who built the log cabin after a lifetime in the city and treated me to a home cooked meal, tea, and cookies. The woman who moved from Seattle to pour wine when life there just got a bit too busy. The young server who left Seattle last winter, worked at a ski resort, and learned to ski because it was something new. Those stories always encourage me, because they’re about people who did something rather than just talking about it.

I went antiquing. O my goodness - I love antiques! This may be very dangerous, and if there were more antique stores near me, I’d have an apartment resembling a funhouse, filled with gold mirrors, mismatched tea cups, and garden gnomes. It would be beautiful.

I sat at a vineyard, sipping Cabernet, in a lodge, sipping a latte, on the patio in the most precious German town this side of Munich, sipping a beer. I sipped so many things! I listened to music, the kind that makes you happy nostalgic about the past and whimsically excited about the future, cozied up and read by the fire, spent hours searching for the perfect dining room painting and living room rug. I found them.

And in those moments by myself, contemplating whether or not I should drink the second can of wine, I gathered those small pieces of myself that had been hiding the past months. The pieces that knew I was strong, that knew I was adventurous and energetic. Those pieces that enjoyed her own company.

On the occasions I talk about being single to you, I often do it in the context of wanting to look someone directly in the eye, wanting to feel the touch of someone’s high five. It’s equally important to acknowledge those times when your own fist pump is more than enough.


* A singles tennis match, obviously.
** Roughly two in the case of D-3 tennis.
*** More to come on that.