Dear Readers,
Today marked my first day back to work in person — and truthfully, I hated it. I didn’t want to go back, and that makes me laugh, though without any real humor. It’s one of those quiet, tired laughs that come from knowing something needs to change but not quite knowing how.
Somewhere in the middle of my morning routine and my drive to work, I came to a realization: I feel like I don’t really have much support. One of the locations I manage for my swim school has become an absolute disaster.
Now before you wonder why I don’t simply roll up my sleeves and clean it myself — it’s not that simple. My company is a hosted swim program, which means we rent pool space from gyms. The facility I was at today… well, let’s just say I’ve had to call the health department more than once because of how poor the conditions are.
There’s mold spreading along the windows and walls, moisture dripping and gathering until paint begins to peel, and black spots forming wherever the water lingers. The pool deck has standing puddles that never seem to dry, and the edges of the pool are beginning to turn green. It’s disheartening — and frankly, disgusting.
I’ve reported the issues to both my upper management and the gym’s leadership, yet no one seems to care enough to fix them. It leaves me feeling small and unheard, like my voice keeps echoing in a place where no one is really listening.
But amidst that frustration, there were still small bright moments. I held a staff meeting today, and it went beautifully. Nearly all of my team showed up, and since Halloween is right around the corner, I decided to surprise them with candy and little pumpkin baskets as a token of appreciation. Their smiles made the effort worthwhile — a gentle reminder that even small gestures can make a difference.
After work, I went to visit my coworker and dear friend — we’ll call her Parm. She’s wonderful. I sat in her warm, cozy home, sipping tea and nibbling on chocolate while outside, the Pacific Northwest unleashed one of its wild autumn storms. The wind roared and the rain fell in sheets, lightning flashing across the sky like a restless painter’s brushstroke.
Driving today was its own kind of adventure. The wind pushed my car sideways on the freeway, and the traffic lights swung violently in the air as though they were barely hanging on. At one point, I even lost power — and honestly, as I write this, I’m half-expecting it to go out again. The trees outside, ancient and wise, groan under the pressure of the storm. Their creaks echo through the night, a haunting reminder of resilience — of how we all bend, complain, and still somehow remain standing.
Today wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pretty. But I got through it. And maybe, for now, that’s enough.
With warmth,
Monique
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