Swings and Roundabouts

The sun is barely up now and I am more tired than usual as I let the water splash against the back of my head. I just remembered I submitted for a writing contest last night. Swings and roundabouts... swings and roundabouts.. swings and roundabouts. That was the topic. Repeating it to myself wasn’t giving me ideas, but maybe I would remember it. I have been to England once before and never heard anyone use that term. 

For the past 4 years, I have been working freelance. I always enjoyed the freedom of working on my schedule, and it provides an opportunity to practice discipline. You don’t need discipline when you work for someone, You just have to be on time when they tell you like a soldier or sheep. Lately, I have been dreaming of that salaried position again. The easy life of knowing your bills are paid as long as you dedicate half your waking hours to it.

When I first started freelance I was making good money. It was awesome. I could work two weeks a month and afford to take two weeks off for leisure and of course reading and writing. This was not that time though. Over the last year, those two weeks turned into six weeks of work that needed to be done in four. After this weekend though things may be completely different. It was nothing short of a coincidence that I am on my way to London for an interview when I see the writing contest for “Swings and Roundabouts”. The deadline is Friday and I am getting back into the country on Thursday night. Perhaps something will come to me on my trip. Maybe a cabby will tell me all about swings and roundabouts.

My day is going to be packed. As soon as I get out of this shower I will be moving non-stop until I get seated on the plane. Last minute cleaning, lock the house, take Buddy to my neighbors to play with his mutts for a few days, check my packing, call an Uber, check-in, eat lunch, and board. Maybe I will find some time to write while I am waiting. Travel is not much more than waiting anyway. I should have a lot of downtimes. I hope.

Today is Tuesday. I will be back in Albuquerque at 5:03 pm on Thursday. I have one stop in Houston with an hour layover, then I am off to Heathrow International in London. I will land at 7:40 in the morning and have to be back at the airport tomorrow night to be boarded by 11:25 pm. My interview is at 2 pm. Maybe I can find a hotel to get a shower at before. Shit! I am going to mess this all up. My clothes are going to be wrinkled. I only have to carry on luggage. I have not thought it through! It was up to me to plan the flights and for some reason, it completely spaced my mind that there was a time difference both ways and 13 hours of flight each way. Not including time for check-in and local travel. When I confirmed my itinerary with HR so they could pay for it, she laughed and ask me if I wanted to reschedule the interview for next week.

I wanted to make it sound like I was busy and not desperate for a job, but also that I wanted it so I responded, “I just checked my schedule and I have some very important clients I would hate to miss an opportunity with and need to be back by the weekend.”

What the hell did I just say? I bet it sounds like I don’t even need the job!

She laughed, “Ok soldier! Just to confirm. We would like to expect to see you at the office at least an hour before your interview. If you can make it to the offices before noon, I am sure the president of the company would be pleased to take you to lunch. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

I hastily go through my bag. My carry-on can only be 13kg. Oh god, what is that in pounds?! Google... 28 lbs! Whew! I estimated it to be 20 lbs. Now I can pack my extra battery pack. A set of clothes on my body and dress clothes in my carry-on. I got my wallet, keys, phone, laptop, toothbrush, and sunglasses. That is about it. I feel naked. No time left, I have to go.

I feel myself push back into my seat as the plane rushes down the runway. I have an aisle seat and can see very little outside. Just a little silhouette of egg-shaped light around the heads peering out the little oval windows. Tomorrow at this time I hope to be eating lunch with the president of one of the largest accounting firms in the world. It has been 4 years since I have worked as a professional accountant and the work feels foreign to me. I almost feel like I forgot how an accountant acts.

The company spent almost 4,000 Euros on my plane tickets and it didn’t even phase them. It is possible I could win $250 for this writing contest. I get excited about the thought of writing. Numbers always seemed so black and white they drained the colors right out of my life. But on the other hand, if I got this job I would make over $250 a day for working at a slow careful pace like all accountants need to do. Now I am thinking like an accountant. Writing. Now that is an art. I take my laptop out of my bag and start a new text document.

Swings and roundabouts. The swing part is similar to our 'ups and downs' expression. Roundabouts though. Those are unique to England, I think. Are roundabouts simply the result of people that only like turning right? Why not just turn directly in the direction you want to go? Why should I drive out of my way in a circle just so I don't have to drive across oncoming traffic? Sure the roundabout can be argued to be a faster and safer type of intersection requiring no unnecessary stopping, but why use it in the saying swings and roundabouts? Why are they listed individually.? Certainly, swings would work by themselves and be a lot shorter.

I would search the internet for context but I can not afford the in-flight internet service. I am not going to get anywhere with this story if I don't find out. As a flight attendant passed down the aisle I stopped him, "Excuse me, can you tell me if any of the crew on this flight is from England? I am writing a story and I would love their input." "Sure”, he replied. “Nancy is from Bristol. Let me see if she has a moment."

Nancy approached me a few moments later. Placing a hand on the headrest in front of me she sweetly ask me what she could help me with. "I am writing a story about my trip to England and I was curious about the phrase swings and roundabouts. Have you heard it?"

"Oh, sure! It is about gains and losses that offset each other."

"So it is just like our phrase ups and downs?", I asked.

"Sort of, except what you gain on the swings you lose on the roundabouts."

She winked at me and professionally carried on with her business leaving me even more confused. So a swing is a gain and a roundabout causes loss? Does driving around a roundabout take that much longer, and if so then what the heck is a swing? A left turn? How am I going to write about this if I don't even understand what they represent?

We are descending into Heathrow international. It must be about 6 in the morning. I can not remember what I accomplished, but I feel like I got a lot of sleep. Surprisingly refreshed, I might just be ready for this day. It is only a 30-minute taxi ride to the offices from the Airport. I bet I can find a hotel on the way to shower and iron my clothes that have no doubt been crinkled in my bag. Perhaps with some internet, I can distract myself with writing a few hours before I go to my interview.

Everything is on schedule so far. I am sitting in my hotel room, clean, clothes ironed, and drinking a cup of "filter coffee” from the room service menu. That is what they call American coffee. As I checked in, I ask the hotel concierge about swings and roundabouts. No one seemed to be just spouting it off at random and I needed more context.

She said, "You have to take the good with the bad. It is kind of like a compromise. When I was a little girl the teacher would tell us to share the swing set. The next best toy on the playground was the roundabout. So we knew that you would gain on the roundabout whatever time you lost on the swing."

"So neither the swing nor the roundabout is better?"

She replied, “It depends who you ask. Some children loved the swing, maybe more than the roundabout, and others stayed on the roundabout all recess long. The fact is, you can't have both at the same time."

This research was getting futile. I suppose it is just a saying to tell someone to stop bitching or bragging and accept all things. I guess it was more polite. Anyway, I have nothing written and I need to get ready for my lunch with the president of my possible future.

We are waiting to be seated at a very quaint and fancy restaurant. I can not tell by the theme what kind of food they serve and am anxious to see the menu. I forgot to eat since that tiny ham and dinner roll on the plane last night. The president is a well-dressed, elderly, smiling, and very polite man, obviously doing more observing than talking as we are seated at our table.

"Mr. Carter, I trust your travel was safe and uneventful”

"Oh yes sir, quite comfortable too.", I replied.

We continued with casual small talk for a few minutes, and I sat quietly while the president spoke with the two other people who had joined us. One was Emily, the HR rep I spoke to on the phone, and the other was the CFO. The man who would be my boss and I have not heard his name mentioned yet. I should have shaken his hand. What has gotten into me? I am 30 minutes into a pre-interview lunch and I haven't even greeted my potential boss.

During a moment of silence and covering his banger with a spoonful of gravy the CFO said, "So Mr. Carter, your resume is impressive, although you have spent some time out of practice, you have a keen eye for detail. What kind of ideas do you have about working for our company?"

This completely caught me off guard. How could I tell him I was tired? I was not making any money on my own, working extremely long hours, and just wanted to take a break for a while? So I told exactly the opposite of how I felt. I lied.

"After some time to myself, I have come to appreciate the hard work of a fast pace of a professional environment. I feel refreshed and ready to tackle whatever kind of challenges you could throw at me."

He seemed to take longer than necessary to ponder what I just said, "I see, what kind of things have you been doing in the last 4 years?"

If I told him how hard I worked for nothing it would completely contradict my lie and make me look tired and worn out. What have I done that they would be interested in? The only accounting I have done is counting back change at the register. 

I was taking too long and didn't know what to say, so I said the only thing on my mind and hoped the right words would follow it, "Well it was all about swings and roundabouts."

There was a slight giggle around the table. Maybe it sounded funny in my American accent. Maybe it was completely the wrong thing to say and I offended them.

"Go on..", the president encouraged.

"Well, working for myself had many challenges. At first, I had a lot of time to myself, but as time progressed I was working harder than I ever had for my money. Now I find myself in a position where I miss the stability of a salary"

Everyone was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. Emily broke the silence by bringing up an HR matter while I sat and wondered what I just said. Did I sound like I just wanted money? I probably sound like a disheveled drunk who has run out of beer money. My accent is not polished like theirs. I was starting to feel way out of place. I felt relief to know I would be chasing the sun home on a plane shortly after it set today.

I don't think I got a word in edgewise the rest of the meal. I wanted to ask them about swings and roundabouts, but I just told them about it and that would sound dumb.

We got back to the office at 1:30 pm. I sat alone in the waiting room until it was time for my interview. Once it started, the questions gave me the impression they were no longer considering me for the position. They lacked genuine interest that I had made no effort to gain. My heart sank, but not too much. I tried to imagine the opposite feeling I was having and it didn't give me any relief. In this company, I would feel trapped and outnumbered. I would always be an outsider. My break from my professional life has made them wonder if I would be up for a cage again. Perhaps I wasn’t. Well, interviews go two ways I thought. If I am feeling this way about them, I can not blame them for feeling the same. I quickly turned the conversation off topic to how different I found England to be from my home. We talked about the difference in sports, the hot weather of the New Mexico southwest, and how hard it was to grow things there. We had a few laughs and even went over our time by fifteen minutes. As we walked out of the conference room, a sharp young man in a very English suit stood up to greet us. He was nervous too, but not like me. I was worried I didn't fit in, he was worried like a kid on Christmas anticipating a gift he has asked for but doubts he will get.

"Mr. Carter, I would like to introduce one of our most promising young interns. He has been working here 7 years while he attended Cambridge all the while raising a family."

"It is very nice to meet you", I said as he stood to shake my hand with his sweaty palm.

As I walked down the hall, I realized I never even learned the president’s name. I knew I would never be here again. I hoped that the young man I saw in the hallway might get the job. I never liked accounting much anyway.

As I was boarding the plane, the captain was standing in the hallway greeting passengers. As I passed he ask me, "Enjoy your stay?"

Once again, all I could think to say was, "Swings and roundabouts, it is all about the swings and roundabouts."