I FINALLY GOT A JOB, albeit a temporary one. But hey, six weeks of making some bank is six weeks of making some bank, ya heard? (both times I tried to type “six,” I typed “sex” instead. Freud would have a field day with me)
Lemme tell you about my job. Better yet, let me show you. This is what my office space (har har har) looks like for realz:
Picture it: Me and this other lady. In a glorified closet. Surrounded by files, files, and more files. It is our duty to reorganize said files and try to figure out what distinguishes an acquisition file from a corporate file. AWESOME. FILES.
I have to tell you about the lady I work with. She is older and is sort of like my mother figure in the workplace. And boy is she a talker. Which is good because I am most definitely not. So she’s sitting there talking about her son’s girlfriend and how much she hates her because she’s only 18 and already has two kids and she doesn’t want her son to be the baby daddy of this chick’s next one. But her son has apparently already fathered some kid up in New York, where they’re from. When she goes out to take smoke breaks she says, “I gotta go take a cig break” and mimics holding a cigarette in her hand. Then she says, “I don’t even smoke that much. Maybe two or three a day. I don’t know why.” And I just laugh that nervous laugh. You know the one. She has a degree from FIT and is going to school right now for interior design. She’s super cool.
During lunch every day I go across the street to Chic-fil-a and then I take my food back to my car and eat it. Yes, I am that person. Even though it’s hotter than blue blazes outside. You see, it is downright freezing in the office building, so I like to scald myself before going back inside. And then I proceed to read a Hemingway* novel. Good Lord, could I BE any more anti-social? Whatever. Like Bon Jovi once said…It’s my life.
Ummm yeah, that’s it I guess. Oh! I also moved into a new place. It’s just like Melrose Place except instead of having Grant Show as a neighbor, I have Paul. He just had several surgeries on his leg so he has a special handicap spot the complex made for him. “V.I.P. parking,” he likes to call it.
*I just feel like I need to point something out about this book, The Sun Also Rises. When the main character is describing this woman, he says, “She was built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht.” Whaaat?? She’s shaped like a boat? And this is a good thing, I reckon.