I wrote this the day I went to one of my last corporate, formal meetings as a Creative Director of Kish+Co, ever. 

I thought, I might wear my metallic sneakers. 

I opted for no coat. 

Pinky-red lips. 

I opted for some of my stickler rules, to show up on time as much as I can. 

With an electrical device. Because it makes me feel savvy. 

I opted for a pearl and diamond ring with my heavy stone cluster ring. 

One says rich and very lady like (neither of which I feel I am). 

The other says artist and strong woman (both of which I am).

And when I reached Level 32, some of that boisterous confidence had left me. 

You see the view was breathtaking. 

The 32 floors of suits and men were unnerving. 

And when the client came, he was “that” kind. 

The one in a suit. 

About a decade older than me. 

And I unravelled just a little. 

What if I’m not old enough? 

Not smart looking enough? 

Not formal enough? 

I don’t belong here. 

I don’t wear nude lipstick or heels. 
And then for the FIRST TIME EVER. 

I told myself to see it from his perspective. 

Perhaps this new generation (and I’m not that new by any means, but to him, possibly), had him on edge. 

He had three women he was managing and they had unique ideas of their own. 

Let alone me, the crazy-ring-lady. 

His ball game was new. 

The bosses were saying “more impact”, big “change”. 

Something fresh, something new. 

Something bold. 
And because of all the years past, 

All the bosses past, 

All the trampling he’d taken, 

He wasn’t able to really push me for that. 

I could see it. 
I said the words illustration and photography and bold and fearless and explorative and conceptual and his eyes never lit up. 

He never once got excited. 

Living the same, day in and day out. 

For the safety, for the security. 

We could blame our lives on safety and security.

The dissatisfaction of it.
Oh, all the places we could go. 

If only you really, truly wanted to travel. 

We could explore.