On Friday, I ate lunch with a dude who did his utmost to convince me to join the reclamation team at an as-yet unbuilt oilsands project in the wild wild north, even more north than Fort MacMurray. A glowing picture formed over my veal and leeks: become a world-class expert in a tiny field! Make $200,000 a year before I’m thirty! Rebuild ecosystems, make a difference, save the world, feed the abadiginals!
I thanked him for his interest, and lunch, and the tour of his department’s floor, and the numerous contacts he insisted swap business cards with me on said floor (lots of clammy handshakes and intense interest), and the presentation, and the posters, and for complimenting me on my personality and brains and verve. It was good to get out of the office for a four-hour lunch, and it was good to have my ego stroked, despite it always feeling deeply weird and suspicious.
However, we have some issues.
Item 1: That I dislike camping and hiking and many other things that come with ‘living’ in the very far north.
Item 2: That the mosquitoes up there are the size of swallows.
Item 3: That I just started my new job like ten weeks ago. And if I leave it, how’s that gonna look?
Item 4: That there are way too many men up there.
Item 5: That there’s nowhere to wear my cocktail dresses to.
Item 6: That I could really definitely die in a tailings pond.
Item 7: That if I drag myself out of the tailings pond and set off across the impenetrable forest, I will get eaten by a bear. Or an abadiginal.
Item 8: But that it would be a damn sight better than cleaning up contaminated downstream sites in Manitoba. 8a: That all those contaminated sites are located in civilization.
Item 9: And it would be a brilliant opportunity that would make the most of, and squeeze every last drop from, my second degree.
Item 10: That I’d be on the research team and would even be able to make the most of my first degree. 10a: That I would be a war journalist for the battle between sulfate-reducing bacteria and methanogenic bacteria at the bottom of the ponds.
Item 11: That I will be even more squillions of miles away from the people I love and miss loads already.
Item 12: That no one will come visit me. Not that anyone visits me right now except for Vulcan Pipeline Dude. 12a: That even he won’t visit if I live up there. 12b: But my parents won’t visit either, so that’ll be nice.
Item 13: That I’ll be living in an apartment the size of a refrigerator box. Or a trailer or a tent… or a cave.
He just e-mailed me saying he liked my ideas and asking my opinion on the job. What should I do? God I’m so bad at decisions.
Don’t do it! I promise that I’ll (eventually) visit you if you stay in Calgary, but there’s no way that I’ll visit you if you’re north of Fort Mac. And I can pretty much promise you that you will fall in a tailing pond and either drown, or drag yourself out and get eaten by a wild animal or a scientist of some sort (from what I understand, research scientists are a hungry bunch).
Yeah, given my phenomenal safety record *in* the city, what I’d be like in the wilderness probably doesn’t bear thinking about. (Bear. Get it?)
But it’s such a good opportunity… I’m thinking of staying in my current job for a year or so, keeping in touch with Mr. Important, and checking back with him then. Since the project hasn’t even been built yet, he assures me that the position will still exist and have my name on it. A lot could happen in a year…