peoplespace
As I was packing up to leave school in late May, I had a weird experience on campus. I had crossed the river from home to school to pick a few things up from my various lockers, closets, etc. It was about 10 days after school had let out for summer. Most people had already left campus for travel before starting summer internships.
Being on campus, a place where I had had a million intense memories accumulate during the year, I had a rather vacant feeling. The type of vacancy you’d encounter coming to a place you’d never been before.
In my mind I started to feel nostalgic – remembering all the great things that had happened that year.
It occurred to me then that the place would never be the same. Granted, I still have a whole year to go at HBS, and many many more memories yet to create. But the notion that what had happened during the year – the experience – was more closely tied to the people and the circumstance than the physical place, made me realize how much I will need to capture every opportunity in the coming year.
Because once the moment passes: the people, the place, the circumstance – everything that happened there becomes a nice (but unrepeatable) memory.
I wonder what psychologists would say about memories – and the strength of them – relative to people or place.
point of order: the post office
I had to visit a US Post Office recently. After spending the year learning about operations management, process improvement, and organizational behavior, I must admit that the visit irked me on so many levels I could feel myself clamming up and needing to get out as fast as possible.
The thing is, I needed to mail my rent to Boston (from New York). This is probably the only part of my life that has not evolved into even the 20th century yet. I still pay rent by check and I still send it via the mail. In order to do this I needed two things: an envelope and a stamp.
Unable to find these things in single serving size at a deli (because why would I?), I set off to the Post Office. (Which, by the way is not conveniently located and keeps inconvenient hours). Imagine my surprise when I got there to discover A) no envelopes for sale (isn’t that kind of a natural COMPLEMENT (thanks Prof Collis) to selling postal services) and B) no easy way to get stamps. The line was 15 people deep, and I went to a machine where my only option was to buy 40 stamps. (Credit to the USPS 1 point for the “forever” stamp.)
Then off to Duane Reade to buy 80 (79 of which I don’t need) envelopes.
And then back in search of a blue mailbox.
Short point: postal mail sucks. The government should dissolve it, force everyone to go paperless, offer it as an uber premium service (or make FedEx pickup and manage the business), and be done with it as it is now.
the bonds of travel
Travel forms tight bonds among people. A passing thought crossed my mind recently: Â I became close (or much closer) with many of my really good friends because of a shared travel experience. It may seem like a pretty obvious thought. And I’ve been fortunate enough to travel to some pretty amazing places in my life. (The experience isn’t limited to friends. I also realized I became a lot closer with colleagues after traveling together, too.)
This yarn of thought then continued unraveling. I began to wonder about life 150 years ago, and what it was then that made people form tight bonds. If the whole escapade of flight and cross country/continent leisure travel wasn’t possible, what was it that formed lasting relationships?
Travel seems to work this way for a number of reasons:
- shared experience – doing anything together provides opportunity to reminisce forever
- prolonged experience – enduring 2+ days of nonstop anything will have an effect
- close quarters – it’s hard to disconnect / find alone time while traveling
- no privacy – it’s hard to pretend to be anything other than what you are when all of the above are happening
It’s hard to replicate these conditions in the average day-to-day, so how do we form the tight bonds (the incredible relationships) that are borne out of incredible adventure in our daily lives? Can we?
(footnote: this is a running theme for me – trying to connect the dots on why people become friends with some people and not with others. expect more on this subject later. also i looked briefly for other writing on the psychology of travel, but didn’t find anything compelling. let me know if you do.)
travel and the media
Every year, the media runs out the door the day before Thanksgiving, parks the satellite trucks somewhere in the flow of traffic around the airport, and sets up to do travel woes live shots. Clockwork. Literally. And for a time, working in the media, I recall there being data to support the claim that the day before Thanksgiving was, in fact, the busiest travel days of the year.
This year, I think I’ve heard the term “busiest travel days of the year” about 10 times. Conveniently a little “one of” has been placed before the phrase most recently. I will even buy that a little.
But today! Today I heard on the television, the radio, and read online, that today would be one of the busiest travel days of the year. And when we took my brother to O’Hare today, there was the Fox News sat truck. Parked and ready. But guess what? There were no people there. Literally. O’Hare was wide open – moving cleanly – nothing to see. The highways to and from O’Hare… wide open – moving cleanly – nothing to see.
So. What gives? One of the busiest travel days of the year? Really? Really?
snapshots in time
It is funny to think about life in increments. For instance, what was I doing last year at this time? I was stressed out about completing b-school essays, most of which I was still unhappy with, and most of which were due the first week of January. I was also stressing about producing a major component of the back to back republican and democratic presidential candidates debates, which also happened to be airing… yes, the first week of January.
Flash forward to this year and I’ve been through an entire semester already. And towards the end of that semester, prospective students with interviews started showing up in class. The cycle moves quickly and soon there will be another set of admits. Weird.
Currently, I’m staring down the barrel of the resume drop deadline for formal recruiting: which is the first week of January. Stressful, ya. But I signed up for this and I’m not really sure that I can complain. It’s a great position to be in.
Whenever I find myself in these types of spots – uncertainty on the horizon – I always find it helpful to look backward before looking forward. Think about where I was 5 years ago today. I had just started my first job. I was thrilled about being at a television network. I couldn’t have imagined ever leaving. And yet here I am, in an entirely differrnt place, completly enthralled by what I’m doing. That gives me great hope. Despite whatever worries me about what’s next, 5 years from now I will hopefully look back at today and think, why was I ever worried?
rested and reflecting
Have been home with the family this weekend. Finally feeling caught up on sleep for the first time since August. Feels good. Strange. But good.
Has also been good to catch up with high school friends here. Was thinking a lot about what life was like in high school and what, at that time, I pictured my life being like in the future. Certainly I don’t think I imagined myself in the spot I am today. But, more than that, I was thinking about the people – my friends – that made high school so great. Similarly, later, I could peg the experience of college to the people. I could peg my work experience to the people. Every time I’ve enjoyed something, it’s usually been because of the people.
Then I got to thinking – how life really is like a series of flash mobs. In the same way that people organize randomly for stunts, gathering instantaneously, performing some gag, and then dispersing. Life is filled with convergences of people. That convergence creates a context or an environment. It is in that environment that experience happens. And then people scatter. And the environment becomes a memory.
All this, I suppose, is a way of reconciling the fact that you can’t really go back to what was. Coming home is great, I love reconnecting with people, I love being at home. But there’s just something different. Age, people, circumstance. Different. Not bad, just different.
