I woke up with a swollen gland in the vicinity of the upper neck and jaw hinge, another symptom of something shifting in my physicality.  Despite a weariness and longing for more rest I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed a cup of coffee and began my day.  I worked remotely from a spare bedroom converted into a home office at my folks’ house as my truck received repairs at a shop nearby.  Admittedly, it was not the most productive day in terms of activity, although it did afford me an opportunity to experiment with telecommuting.  I think it could work once I adjust to the less structured environment.  I have no need for supervision to ensure engagement with work-related tasks as I actually tend to thrive in quite the opposite of a micro-managed culture.  However, I do appreciate being part of a team and learning  from those with more experience. I am grateful for the mentorship I’ve received with one of the best in the hiring consulting business as I’ve learned a great deal, mainly by osmosis as I eavesdrop on phone conversations with clients and candidates alike.  I can assure you that I never said I wanted to be a technology recruiter as a child, nor an admissions advisor, or substitute teacher or a landscape designer for that matter.  I am grateful for the many roles I’ve played in this life.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that I got word of the bloodshed in the streets of Boston from a friend’s social media status update.  Just a few minutes prior I noticed a piercing ring in my left ear, and I wondered who may have been thinking of me at that moment.  I was not yet convinced that the alleged explosions at the finish line of the marathon were for real, and then an email from our company President Bill advising us to cease any phone contact in and around Boston, where we do up to 80% of our recruiting.  He concluded the email with “this is not a joke” and upon a quick online search it was further confirmed that a horrific scene had indeed unfolded at a major annual event involving up to one half million people packed into the downtown corridor.  For a moment my heart sank realizing my ex-wife had run the race last year, and for all I know had returned for an encore performance.  I thought to text her and make sure she was ok, then I decided to let it be and let sleeping dogs lie.

Nonetheless, it is uncanny in a sense that I started this new gig and less than 2 months into it the market of our predominant focus absorbs a major trauma.  We have 3 partners running home-based offices in and around Boston, and I have connected with hundreds of people either born there, or relocated for employment as I inspire, empower and inform with love and goodness to all concerned.  It was like a shock wave sent out in this era of mass digital interconnectedness and I feel the loss as if it were my own.  We cannot stop bad things from happening, we can only respond, and responding with love is the most empowering option available.  As destruction breeds creation, we’re reminded how tragedy brings strangers close enough, if for only a moment, to realize we’re all in this together.  It is times like these that we learn to love again.

In common wealth,