Where nobody knows my name

The drive back home on a Monday can be quite brutal.

Mondays are really bad days for me, I have weekly meetings with my client that day and it has never been pleasant. Advertising has become really tough these past few days with bossy clients who want results all the time, everything is measurable now and you’re only as good as your results on excel spreadsheets.

It’s even harder since I’m not American and I can’t do the small talk and banter my colleagues do with the clients. My frame of reference is drastically different while the delivery and timing never really hits the right note… my colleagues and I could be telling the same joke and it would come out totally different.

These kind of wistful yearning for my home gets especially strong on Mondays as I drive back in the dark from the office. With the sun setting in the horizon and as I speed back to my apartment, I have the road to myself and I ponder about how I got to Boston in the first place.

And I was reaching my apartment today, the radio started playing “Boston” by Augustana… I heard the song so many times but I really only paid attention to the lyrics today.

“Boston… where no one knows my name… yeah
Where no one knows my name…
Where no one knows my name…
Yeah Boston…
Where no one knows my name.

And I realised “hey that’s me.”

It’s Monday’s way of saying “Welcome to the week.”


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