The Manta Ray Knows
One man's manta ray is another man's strategy.
We’ve landed back in late November 2024, the kind of gray Seattle day where the sky blends with the water like an overworked watercolor. The aquarium's glass tunnels loop around us, casting flickers of light and fish shadows across our faces. We're just standing there, staring at these neon-glow creatures, trapped but elegant... like screen savers with gills. And then—bam—a manta ray glides into view, all slow-motion and chill like it owns the place. It’s cool. Really cool. And for a second, everything else—emails, policies, timelines—melts into the blue quiet.
Now jump cut to today, and things are a bit... knottier. I’ve been working remotely since 2017, humming along just fine, coding and engineering away in my Montana bubble. But come July 1, 2025, MSU wants me back on campus, physically, despite early promises that I'd be spared the home-to-office shuffle. It’s the classic bait-and-switch, with a plot twist of bureaucracy. Promises from management turned into contradictions, VP meetings got canceled then revived, and meanwhile, I’m trying to decode retirement options, ADA leverage, union strategies, and a tangled web of HR poker faces. Oh, and I’ve got just enough time to blink before decisions get made without me.
But here’s the kicker—just like that manta ray, slow and sudden—there’s movement. The union swoops in, shifts the July 1 policy to a review-based process. A little breathing room. I just filed for an RWA, trying to sidestep the pressure to commit too early, and I’m documenting every word, every shift, like a digital Sherlock Holmes. I’ve been told to be not rushing. Just listening. Watching. And waiting for the next quiet ripple in the tank.
Funny how that manta ray moment sticks... a flicker of grace in a controlled world. Maybe it's a reminder that not everything has to slam into motion. Sometimes the coolest moves are the quiet, deliberate ones.
Disclaimer: This post was cobbled together using a delicate mix of memory, caffeine, and just enough internet rabbit holes to keep things interesting. Any typos are the fault of a rogue octopus, and all facts were gently herded into place by late-night logic. Image magic provided and perfected by Sora, who politely told our pixels to behave.