I declared last week, if I passed my PMP exam, today was going to be a day of jubilee. Not a full on dancing sort of day, I didn’t expect a ticker tape parade, but today was going to be the day that I did not do things that I didn’t want to do, if you pestered me I was going to ignore you for the entire afternoon, and when people told me that I did a good job on the exam, I was going to smile and say thank you, and not demur.
I passed my PMP this morning at 11:45am.
I even had a little plan, which involved lunch (Mr. Spit didn’t want to go to lunch, as it turned out) and then maybe a nap and then I had to fly to Victoria, but that was going to be ok, and I would be in about 8pm, so I would go and have a drink by myself (my local friends decided it was too late to come out) and then I was going to propose a toast to myself, and then I was going back to my hotel room and I was maybe or maybe not going to watch Downton Abbey until I fell asleep. I was going to knit, and there was every likelihood that I would finish one sleeve and get a good solid start on the second and that was my little plan.
It was, and I suppose is, a wholly pathetic plan. And you might say that there was no need for a day of jubilee and you might be right, it’s just that I have been doing this whole Project Management Credential thing since September of 1997, and that’s a lot of time. I finally got my CAPM last year, after I registered for it, not realizing I actually had enough hours to do my PMP.
Anyway, I have been living with this whole thing for 3 jobs, 4 miscarriages, one dead child, about 15 rounds of fertility treatment, 2 employers, 2 dogs, 3 cats, 2 major renovations and I’m finally done. I was done at 11:45 this morning, and I had been doing this for a long time.
I wanted a bit of a day of jubilee because 5 years ago, my then boss told me this was a waste of time and I didn’t need it and would never be a PM and I wasn’t going to be successful anyway.
As it turns out, it’s 9 pm, and I’m still stuck in the Vancouver airport, and I ate the world’s worst rice bowl and I’m drinking a Tim Horton’s iced cap and thinking about Kuri who swears there is more fat in them than in a big mac, and I spent three and a half hours stuck in the Edmonton Airport, not sure if I was going to get out, but knowing I was screwed if I didn’t because they had oversold the flights tomorrow and I have 5 meetings in Victoria tomorrow.
So, anyway. My day of jubilee was a gin and tonic and 5 minutes with Billy Joel singing Uptown Girl in seat 13C of a jet.
Not exactly what I pictured, really.