Encountering old dreams

Yesterday I found myself at a conference, a meeting of students interested in or involved with space. There were talks by people from industry, a BBC man and scientists too. But it was definitely a student thing - the exhibition and recruitment by potential employers confirmed this. On a campus that felt overcrowded with buildings. Like a medieval walled city, but built in the 70s and 80s, in a largely inoffensive style. And then some modern redevelopments, from when a university's architecture again had to reflect it future-looking vision.

The attendees were young, mostly male, but not exclusively so. Generally bright, interested, but above all optimistic. And 99% of the room wanted to be astronauts once, at least 40% (those without glasses) still want to be.

And the optimism should have been contagious, but it mostly passed me by. Maybe I've become a cynic? Then I realised that the people around me were living the choices I did not make. The master's program I discovered too late, but still considered, the offer from the university I declined (the very university hosting the day), people staying in industry, or heading towards it with a mix of trepidation and excitement.

But they were interesting people, with interesting experiences, to the point where I felt distinct pangs of jealousy. I try to console myself: that I made my own decisions, they are being groomed into industrial bunnies, and that some might very well be jealous of me. But still. You're not supposed to be confronted with the roads you did not take.

I have to rush away from the dinner party, to catch my train. Suddenly it is dark, and raining fat cold drops. I make it, with 2 minutes to spare. As the train pulls away, I can see some late Guy Fawkes rockets explode in the sky.

Uitpasseer

On my first day at work we all met in the boardroom. New employees, slightly nervous, excited, optimistic.

On the last day, we have tea and cake in the boardroom. They say how they will miss my contribution. I make a submissive two-sentence speech on how the people I worked with made it worthwhile. All carefully worded, no-one upsetting anyone else.

They give me a gift voucher.

Then we eat, mingle, chat. Say goodbye. I tell about my new adventure. Answer questions on where and how and what.

We disperse. The MD disappears without saying a word.

In the beginning

I walked into the boss's office, smiled, asked if he had a moment, smiled again, closed the door and told him I am leaving. And smiled.

He leaned back in his chair, sighed and cursed. I smiled. He asked the usual where, what questions. I explained about the UK, about studying. He said it is a bad time on our project. I pretended not to smile. I knew. He sighed again. I pretended again. He complained that it seems to be the fate of the company to train young engineers for a year or two before they moved on. I wanted to jump up and down and shout and ask why he thought that happens. Instead I just nodded.

We made small talk. About whether I would return. He told how he would leave the country if he could, if his wife would. I refused to give up my hope, my naivety, my youth. I said I hoped to. He said he didn't think I would.

He thanked me for warning them well in advance of my departure. I knew I wouldn't really make a difference. I smiled.

I walked away. He remained seated.