Anatomy of a No-Brainer

I have been working since 6:30 at my desk in the "blue collar" room with the white board on the wall listing the names of every person who will be at my wedding and with whom they will sit. Are the old people far enough from the DJ? Are the exes far enough from each other? Is it really obvious that one of the tables should probably be named, "The Island of Misfit Toys?" I don't actually have time to ponder these mysteries, but then again nor do I have time to yell at the dog for sneaking the remains of my breakfast out of the trash can. We do what we have to do.

Suddenly, I am on deadline for the consulting job, and a newborn offer for a "real job" sits by my flip flops in a FedEx envelope. They want me to deliver it back to them today. I haven't even given it much thought. I arrived at my interview 45 minutes late because the secure facility was a little too secure. Eight of us sat around a table. We talked. They laughed. And when it was over, my potential boss walked me across the parking lot and gave me the thumbs up with a "just between us" caveat.

Two days later, they are offering me more than I asked for, different than I wanted. But not different than I need. My budding family needs stability, security, health insurance coverage. A job when I get back from Paradise. So, I'll sign my name on the line. In 10 days, even my name will be different.