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I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, down the stairs. I lifted the next item out of the box, a gray wool skirt suit. The fabric felt soft and luxe, a subtle pinstripe running top to bottom. But when I held up the matching jacket, I could tell that something about it was no longer righ…

“Maybe two more years,” I say. “Two more years should be long enough to get me promoted, right?” I’ve been two years from promotion for more than a decade now, but hey. “Four more vesting cycles.” This, at least, is solid. The future may be vapor, but the cash is real.

“Fine with me,” John says.…

It hits me like brand-new news that I could just leave. I could even leave right now. Just drive away and never come back. John wouldn’t care; if anything, he’d be delighted. I’d be a failure, I think. But suddenly the word looks so small. Okay, let’s say you run screaming and become a failure. Do …

“Who gives a fuck? If you don’t have to put up with working at Amazon, do you really need to make Amazon money?”

That’s the million-dollar question. “My husband was horrified by what this bag cost,” Sally told me last week about the Marc Jacobs hobo she pulled the trigger on after weeks of conte…

Around this time, I also notice that my yoga practice no longer buffers my work worries, that even in the middle of savasana or a pose that requires all my focus, part of me is thinking about whether I’ll have a job next month. Clearly this is yoga’s fault. I need a more difficult practice, one whe…