"How fast is your emotional processor?" Or, my attempt at feeling the BIG FEELS of a BIG F*CKING WEEK
A few words about closing a deal and getting a new puppy in the same week.
Super fun fact about me: I process the emotional aspects of big days, big milestones, and big events at the glacial pace akin to a snail or a sloth (or some magical hybrid creature of the two) walking through mud and fog. Because of my snail-sloth processing speed, I find myself still peeling back the emotional layers of life events months and even years after they take place, unless I have the time, space, and wherewithal to sit my ass down and force my emotional hand.1 I am willingly admitting this to you, my friends, because (a) I assume there are others out there who are the same way (I see you! Emotional Snail-Sloths unite!), and (b) it was a BIG F*CKING WEEK and I am attempting to do some real-time emotional processing of it all.
Monday 8:47 AM: A deal closed.
The heatwave was in full force, and our charming 1930s home does not have A/C. Meaning, I didn’t sleep well on Sunday night and woke up sticky and grumpy. The grumpiness was compounded by the fact that I spent my 4th of July holiday and weekend working and monitoring email for a deal set to close on Monday.
I spent the morning of that very Monday sipping an iced coffee and hiding in the basement—the coolest room of the house—to take a string of work calls, including a closing call. For those not steeped in the M&A legal world,2 a closing call is a 5-10 minute call with a bevy of expensive lawyers and eager principals, and a few haggard looking associates (of both the investment banker and law firm varieties) hoping the bags under their eyes aren’t noticeable through a Zoom meeting screen. These calls have a limited and very specific agenda: confirming all last minute open items are done and releasing signatures to each other. Riveting stuff.
For me, closing calls are anti-climactic finales of a months-long corporate circus involving rigorous due diligence, managing external counsel, and navigating ALL THE EMOTIONS of everyone at work, including my own. In fact, closing calls are like some sort of corporate law graduation ceremonies—important in theory but always disappointing in practice and the outfits are never inspiring. Maybe we should play Green Day’s Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) via Zoom to really set the mood…
I close a lot of deals at work—I’m responsible for the legal documentation of my company’s regular and frequent acquisitions of veterinary hospitals. From the perspective of many of my M&A friends, our deals are minor league transactions—what I typically handle are purchases of one location with one or two owners versus the much MUCH larger deals I would be staffed on at my prior firm.
The truth is I like it this way. It’s a more basic kind of work, and it’s immensely gratifying. I have the privilege of using my particular skillset to facilitate a major life transition in a veterinarian’s life. To witness the transition of a life long legacy is something special, especially because I like to infuse humanity, humor, fairness, and fun in what is otherwise a dry, scary, and arduous process for the veterinarian. In other words, I make my mark on the exercise in a way that is authentic to me.
This deal, however, was markedly not a normal deal for my current gig. It did not elicit the regular warm and fuzzies. Without going into specifics, the deal sent me back into a law firm style DEAL MODE.3 It lingered on for months with many starts and stops. My carefully crafted work-life balance that I had finally achieved over the past four years was tipped more violently toward work again.
Rescheduled book club meetings, missed impromptu hangs, and general after-hours stress all recalled the feeling I really hated at the law firm: that my time was not wholly my own and that at any moment there could be demands of me without flexibility—a familiar cortisol/adrenaline cocktail from a previous life. Some day I’ll write my (long overdue) thoughts about the billable hour, but bottom line: the emotional toll this environment takes on me personally was not (and is not) sustainable or desirable. Frustration, anxiety, and low grade fear abound in these deals, and these are all feelings I’ve actively taken measures to avoid if possible. Two cheers for setting boundaries and real self care!
While some get off on the adrenaline and high stakes of it all, that thrill doesn’t outweigh the the toll for me. Slipping back into it was thrilling and empowering, yes, but DRAINING. To be on this side of a successful closing elicits the highest form of relief and elation. I also feel incredibly validated in the decision to leave firm life—so there’s an ounce of smug “I told you so” energy to myself coursing in this emotional recipe as well. And, we all know a “Well…Actually” girl loves an ounce of smug.
Wednesday 7:18 PM: A puppy arrived.
Not to bury the lead here, but two days later, NIK AND I GOT A NEW PUPPY. He’s a precious and precocious 8 week old English Setter who we’ve named Elton. We wanted to give the pup a proper English moniker and had a shortlist of many solid choices. The epiphany for “Elton” (which wasn’t even on the shortlist) didn’t come to us until we were sitting at a picnic bench at a winery on the outskirts of Walla Walla on the 4th of July. (If you missed last week’s musings, I waxed poetically about the wonder and joy we find in Walla Walla. This is a beautiful example of the magic the place imparts on us.)
Back to the picnic table: we were sitting on this particular table at this particular winery because upon check in to our hotel, the front desk mentioned there was live music and a food truck there in celebration of the holiday. The trifecta of grub, song, and wine piqued our interest. When we arrived, we realized the music was an Elton John cover band. “Cover band” was a stretch—the “band” consisted of one dude in a sparkly jacket and pink sunglasses playing B-b-b-b-b-benny and the Jetsss on his electric keyboard. We looked around and realized we were two of maybe four Millennials in the crowd. Almost everyone else was grey haired and suntanned.
We were positively THRILLED.
The singer nailed even the tonations of Elton John’s vowel sounds in Levon, gave the history of Your Song, and played Goodbye Yellowbrick Road as an encore after a very determined 70 year old woman slipped him a 20 dollar bill with a look that said you know what to do now, young man. And boy did he deliver.
Halfway through the set and two french fries into our food truck order, I turned to Nik and said, “You know, Elton is a proper English name.” He nodded. I continued, “Aaaaand, it also happens to be the name of a character in my favorite Jane Austen novel.”4 He continued nodding and smiling, and surprisingly withheld even a teasing look. WE HAD OUR NAME.
Nik was the ultimate orchestrator/mastermind behind getting a puppy. We had discussed it for years, but English Setters are a hard breed to come by. He researched for months and found a reputable breeder in Idaho. From Walla Walla, he drove by himself to pick up the puppy. The drive back consisted of 11 hours on the road and an over night stay at a hotel by himself with an 8 week old puppy. Impressive, right? Honestly, this trek proves many incredible qualities about Nik as a solid and dependable human and partner, but the stamina he has is especially inspiring. I’ve taken many moments over the past few days to deeply feel and express the gratitude I have for this man, and I’ll do it again here for the world to see. I’m in love, I’m in love, and I don’t care who knows it!
Puppy Blues are a known concept for a reason. The gooey warm adoration of a puppy is a one-of-a-kind feeling. Why do they smell so good? Why are their paws so soft?? Why is getting gnawed on by their little baby teeth such a delight??? Why does my heart shatter when he hops around the garden or snuggles next to Afton????
The gooeyness is also a fleeting feeling—puppies grow into mischievous teen pups (which coincidentally is the stage where Afton earned his “Monster Pup” nickname). We are obviously relishing in the gooey warm stage with smiles and infinite oohs and aahs. I already have a hundred pictures and videos of Elton. But, we also know this stage can (and usually does) bring with it utter terror and exhaustion. So, please check on me in a week or two!
Any change also prompts a certain amount of grief. Afton has had his world ROCKED. He’s my first true love, and I’m feeling a certain amount of melancholy and nostalgia because of and on behalf of him. He’s handling the change well, all things considered—he is 12 years old after all. I even caught them snuggling a few times already. The cuteness overload and heart explosions aside, our hope is that Elton will be a good companion for Afton as he eases into his old age. I’m excited to see how their dynamic evolves over the coming weeks.
In the meantime, I’ll be puppy-proofing the house and basking in the post-closing glory for just a little while longer before eventually getting back to normal at work. I’ll also be exclaiming “leave it!” ad nauseam until this adorable little terror quits eating my hydrangeas and chewing on bathroom rugs. Wish me luck.
In truth, it takes me a long time to process most things, big or small, from an emotional perspective, while the intellectual/logical side of my brain does the heavy lifting and processes things too fast. Apparently I intellectualize my emotions (therapy is fun).
M&A = mergers & acquisitions, or when one company purchases the stock or assets of another.
Not to be confused with BEAST MODE, aka, the words sprawled across the puffed up chest of the gym beefheads sporting Ed Hardy-esque cut off muscle tees. The rage-filled, obsessive energies of both, however, are relatively similar.
Bonus points if you know the reference. Mr. Elton in Jane Austen’s Emma.
Mr. Elton in Emma, but also my millennial brain went STRAIGHT to Clueless (which, I know they are, like, totally the same thing, but still). I was so glad to know that this was part of the inspo for this cute little babe, and I am not at all surprised. 💚
Afton deserves happiness in his golden years and Elton impresses as the solution to this issue! What a joyful read regarding confirmation of the decisions Cassie has made professionally and personally! Nik, as usual, glows in the most HEROIC light of all of Cassie’s best decisions.