The Offer

Saturday morning at 7:30 am I was awakened from a deep sleep by a ringing phone. It was the hiring manager for the job in Wisconsin, calling to make me an offer.

I didn't accept right away, but needless to say I didn't go back to bed.

That morning was filled with phone calls - to my immediate family, to more distant family, to the people who have been hoping for this outcome and who will be the most excited about it.

That afternoon I had to go in to work for a bit, and was then meeting a friend at Wynyard Station, so I got to walk through the APEC-deserted city. There were about four people in town, including me, but cops on every corner and a security guard in front of every single tall building, and one in front of the war memorial. I decided to try to get as close to the fence as I could, just to see it. I first walked up Pitt St, but got stopped in front of the Westin because some dignitaries were leaving in their motorcades for dinner at the Opera House. So I doubled back and walked up George Street, and that way I saw it - got to Bridge St, which was easy to spot because there were four cops at the intersection, in bright yellow vests, one on each corner. I turned right and saw the fence, and a police car with lights flashing (but no siren) moving slowly up the street a few blocks away - part of a motorcade no doubt. And there was a big guy in a very nice black suit, who had an earpiece with a curly wire. Just like in the movies. The whole thing was impressive, but creepy, and I'm glad it only lasted a few days.

I was meeting the friend at Wynyard to go see a Rugby League semi-final at Brookvale oval, the first finals appearance by the South Sydney Rabbitohs in umpteen years (18? I forget the exact figure, which shows that although I was wearing the scarf, standing in the Burrow and yelling my head off, I'm not a true fan). I took in the sights and sounds in as much detail as I could, because the fact did not escape me - This Might Be My Last Ever Rugby League Match. I will remember the sounds the crowd makes. The drive to the try line. The smell of the grass after rain. The mud underfoot on the way to the loos. The friendliness of everyone, but also the underlying, growing menace of a stadium full of boofy blokes who've been downing cans of Jim Beam & Coke for six hours. The bright lights. The thrill of the try, and the agony of the video ref's decision and the bad call. Ah, League.

The next day I had to be at the Art Gallery, and thought as I walked up Crown Street to Stanley in East Sydney before turning and following my usual path there, This Might Be The Last Time I Do This Walk. Met up with a gorgeous, wonderful, amazing young man, who if stars had aligned and he had been born earlier might have been something else, but he's just a new friend and a ship passing my ship in the night, because he's probably moving on from this place as well. And we sat at the end of the wharf and made Russell Crowe's security guard uneasy and talked about life and love and art and music, and captured in our eyes the image of the water and the harbour, and the navy ships and police boat and helicopters because it was still APEC weekend and it gives it a sense of time and place, and he listened, because he's a wonderful listener, and he wasn't freaked out that I was moving, although I was, and it was a wonderful night.

Today I had to tell my boss. I had a stomach ache all day, which got worse and worse and worse, but there turned out to be a perfect time to tell him, 4pm after the staff meeting, so we didn't have to talk too long and he didn't have to stay there very long, but could go home and sleep on it. I can't even describe how sad it makes me, I will try to describe it later, because this is my dream job, for real, and I will never find another one as good as this ever in my life, and I love him and had to let him down. But I love my parents more, and that's what this is all about.

Once that was done, I felt a weight lifted, and now I feel excited. Now I am making lists of things I want to do when I get there (ice skating lessons, join the Democratic party), and there was a lightness in my step as I walked home.

I have an intense, challenging couple of months ahead of me. The emotional roller coaster hasn't even got started yet, and I don't even want to think about the height of its highs and the low of its lows. Hardly anyone in town knows about this yet.

But it's the new chapter. It's my new adventure. Welcome everyone to Ellen Part 3.