When I was at the conference in Orlando (was that only last week? It seems like half a dozen cities ago) I remembered that one of the joys of going to that particular conference 6 or 7 years ago was watching men line up for the restrooms during the breaks. This was back when the ratio of men to women was about 4:1. Now that the numbers have balanced out a bit, it’s not nearly as much fun (read: there are lines for the women’s rooms now). I just re-read this and realized what a sad commentary this is on my life, that a) I am amused by men in line for bathrooms and b) I would write about it. Sad, sad, sad.

When people used to live primarily in small towns, or even urban neighborhoods, you talked to people around you all the time because you had to live with them and see them every day. Now that we travel frequently we no longer have the same motivation to make conversation with the people we see – they breeze through our lives for seconds or minutes or maybe an hour or two at a time. What opportunities do I miss by not talking with people who sit next to me on planes?

Back when I first started traveling about 25 years ago staying in hotels was so exotic, no matter where they were or what quality of accommodations they provided. The motel room near Cyprus Gardens that had a screen door, black and pink 50s tile in the bathroom, bugs in the dresser and no lock on the room door was as interesting as the Harley Hotel in Rockford, Illinois (those places were run by Leona Helmsley – she may have been a complete bitch on wheels, but her hotels were *damn* clean). I wish I had kept track of all the places I’ve stayed – they’ve ranged from a fabulous resort in India to a Super 8 in the Shenandoah Mountains (on a very long drive back from Charlotte after the flight was repeatedly delayed – it took off shortly after a co-worker and I abandoned it for the 12 hour drive home). Now they all just look the same. The amenities may vary a little, but they’re a bed, a bathroom and a phone. And maybe high speed Internet access, which does have the capability to make me happy.

Careers are funny things. At least mine is. It seems to have a life of its own with its own destiny and it follows a path that is a mystery to me. I suppose there are people who plan out their professional roadmap, including the routes they will take, the side trips they will make, and the series of destinations at which they plan to arrive. Based on the number of both voluntary and involuntary career changes that people make throughout their lives, I have to believe there are fewer of these “career mappers” than there used to be. My own career has wandered and meandered, never in a straight line, although I’ve stayed in a fairly narrow industry – application software for public sector organizations – ever since I started working a very long time ago (when I didn’t know what application software was). I’ve had opportunities to do many types of jobs, although I’ve only worked for three companies since I graduated from college. The impetus for this career retrospective is a promotion I just received. I’m never sure why I make progress in my job – I am well-organized (most of the time), take good notes (a compulsive behavior that could probably be cured), play well with others (at least more than 50% of the time), but doubt that those traits are enough. Since the promotion, I’ve heard comments from other women in my company about the glass ceiling being shattered (although there have been many other female senior executives in prior years), but I’ve never felt any lack of opportunities due to (or because of) my gender. Although it is me and eight men on the senior management team – maybe that does say something.

Movies: That thing with Jim Carrey as God. His name is Bruce. Then there was Life of Brian. Why are humans-as-a-deities always white men whose names start with “Br”? Well, there was Alanis Morissette in Dogma, but that hardly seems to count. I’m watching this on a plane. No one will lower their window shades so that the cabin is sufficiently dim to actually see the movie. I could kick myself – I flew out here first class and neglected to pick up the headphones they gave me, so I just spent $5 on the ones back here in coach. I know, I could have just not bought them and saved the money, but then I would not have seen this classic movie and been able to bitch about other passengers who think that their view out the window is more important than their fellow passengers’ viewing enjoyment.