Nothing compares 2 U

Earlier this summer, my youngest son waffled on the date he needed us to pack up the SUV and take him back to school. He went back and forth seeing the merit and challenges of a couple of different options. It was a minor thing. My wife though looked at me. She expected me to be short with him, but I was actually quite understanding.

I think I was so understanding, because I can’t help but laugh at my own indecisiveness and craziness at the same age. One of my more dubious moments comes back to me every so often as a song. It starts out as a wistful tune and then Sinead O’Connor’s haunting vocals.

“It’s been seven hours and fifteen days,
Since u took your love away.
I go out every night and sleep all day,
Since you took your love away.
Since you been gone I can do whatever I want,
I can see whomever I choose,
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant,
But nothing,
I said nothing can take away these blues.”

Of course, I’m talking about O’Connor’s hit single Nothing Compares to U. When the song came out in 1990, I was graduating college. The 1990s are remembered as a time of strong economic growth, steady job creation, low inflation, and a surging stock market, but it didn’t start out that way. Jobs were stagnant and hard to come by. However, my Business, Engineering, and Computer Science friends all seemed to be lining up jobs. They all seemed to have ambitious goals and plans for the future. In my mind they were nailing down six figure jobs with new cars and apartments in the big city. I couldn’t have been further from the truth, but it’s what I thought. I was a mess. I was ready to be done with school, but not really ready to make the huge leap into the unknown.

What should I do?

Right before graduation day, I had a job interview at a small newspaper in upstate New York. I drove nine hours to get there. A week or so after graduation, they made me an offer. I jumped at it, but was soon regretting my decision.

My internal radar was going off. I should be clearer. My internal radar was beeping like a ringing alarm clock. The job didn’t feel right. I got a bad feeling about the managing editor. He had a smarmy feel. He seemed to be trying too hard to be charming, his answers seemed to be fast and loose, and he didn’t come across as genuine. It wasn’t just him. The rest of the people I would be working with seemed standoffish and I worried about the offer. I would be making only a few thousand dollars above poverty level. I tried to hold out for more money, but the boss acted like he was doing me a favor, even taking my call.

One night I sat on my bed looking over coming student loans and the pros and cons list I had created with my mother and my oldest brother. I was trying to make the numbers work. They felt for me but told me it didn’t matter what they thought about the job. The only important thing was what I thought. Finally, we came up with the idea of me driving back up one Saturday/Sunday and taking a look around and seeing if I felt better about my decision.

Nothing compares over and over

I got up in the middle of the night and started the long drive. I drove my mother’s Pontiac Grand Prix. The car’s cassette player didn’t work and I was left with FM radio to keep me company. (Who remembers the days without Spotify or streaming music services?)

I was only a few miles into my trip and Nothing Compares to U came on the radio. Over the next nine hours, if I heard O’Connor’s song once, I heard it a thousand times. Every time I traveled into a new area and had to look for a new station, the song, popular at the time on AM and FM radio, came across the airwaves.

The sadness of O’Connor’s voice matched my mood. Prince originally wrote the song, but O’Connor’s version of the song became a worldwide hit, topping charts in Ireland, Australia, Canada, Denmark, Germany, Mexico, Switzerland, the United Kingdom and the United States.

It gets better

If I wasn’t being besieged by O’Connor’s song, Wilson Phillips’ debut single Hold On came next. The song off the group’s debut album was rising on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and seemed to follow O’Connor’s on a regular loop.

“I know this pain (I know this pain.)
Why do you lock yourself up in these chains? (these chains)
No one can change your life except for you.
Don’t ever let anyone step all over you,
Just open your heart and your mind.
Is it really fair to feel, this way inside?”

While a little more upbeat, I couldn’t help but focus on the pain mentioned in the song and my own anxiety. Carnie and Wendy Wilson, the daughters of Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys, and Chynna Phillips, the daughter of John and Michelle Phillips of The Mamas & The Papas, hit upon the swirl of emotions that I was feeling. As I raced along the highway, I started to wonder if maybe O’Connor and Wilson Phillips were trying to tell me something. Take the job? Don’t take the job? What, exactly?

I was determined to look around the area, get a better feel on it, and make up my mind.

And the decision is?

I kept an open mind, but the more time I spent in the area, the more my gut told me that I was making a big mistake: I wouldn’t be happy in that role. I wouldn’t be happy living there. I wasn’t ready yet to deal with a bad boss. After a few hours, I called the paper and let the Managing Editor know that I wouldn’t be taking the job.

As I mentioned, it wasn’t my finest hour. I hated leading the editor astray, but I made the right choice for me. I drove the nine hours back home full of relief and, well, a strange happiness.

I took a risk letting the job go. I bet on myself that something better would come along, but it ended up paying off in a big way. A few weeks later, I got another offer, this time with a paper that I was more familiar with and had stronger positive feelings. I felt like I would be a valued member of the team. And I was. I would stay there for a couple of years before moving several hours south to Northern Virginia.

The experience taught me that sometimes we need to follow our gut . . . and up-and-coming pop songs and FM radio.