- My job.
- Speed Racer: the 60 year old man that likes to turn corners like he's on wheels running from the grim reaper.
- The woman that sits 2 offices behind me and sounds like Eeyore. Everyday she will have a VERY personal phone call, loud enough for everyone to hear about everything from family members being addicted to pain killers to the color of the dog's bowel movement. And every other word she huffs out is spliced with a long, drawn out pause. I want to unhear everything that has ever come out of your mouth.
- The office crazy, that is more crazy than any woman should be allowed to be. The epitome of a mean girl that wasn't aware of wearing pink on Wednesdays.
- The Security Guard, that when I asked if he could call my extension when my pizza arrived said, "No problem I'll bring it to you. I know where you sit. I see you all the time on the security cameras." Yeaaaaah, I'm creeped out by more than your 70's style mustache now. Stop smiling.
For the record, there are many people that have made my work experience enjoyable than not, even when I didn't enjoy the job.
Things that I loved about my job:
- That one time I walked into the breakroom to hear a guy using the microwave buttons to recreate the Jaws theme song
- All 8 times the firefighters showed up and productivity switched to "Who can fake dead and get them to come to our department? Anyone? I'll punch you and you just stay unconscious, ok? OK."
- Finding out that our marketing VP was in a punk band in California (back in the day) which explained the tattoo and why he looked like Spicoli on casual Fridays.
- Walking by the conference room and all I can hear is "High Way To The Danger Zone" blaring. I was happy to be at work for that 3 minutes 36 seconds.
- Wearing fancypants work clothes. But not actual pants. I hate pants.
- Creeper McCreepster that stalked the women in our department for a week. He's only on this list because it helped us put all of our differences aside and we formed a pact of solidarity to let the office crazy beat him up if he bothered us again. Good times.
- Business trips to Chicago that include deep dish pizza and watching the Blackhawks. Toews, you're a stud, but your play off beard is worse than troll hair. (I really miss the NHL)
- Winchester. The gnome.
- Flirting with the guys in IT so I could get a new computer. Or two. No shame.
- Passing by the shipping coordinator in the hallways and yelling "Potatoes!" followed by a fist-bump and a salute.
- Cajun chicken pasta heaven on Thursdays, I will miss you most of all.
Now I'm sad and hungry.
I could get all sentimental and sweet... but that's not as much fun.
Once in a while it really hits people that they don't have to experience the world in the way they have been told to.
That could sum me up. I don't hold onto that little checklist of life quite as hard as most people do. I'm not opposed to doing things out of order and making it up as I go along. I think I'd really hate my life if I just went from check point to check point and ignored all the billboards for adventures that I passed along the way. I'd also hate my life if I didn't know that you can turn ruined cake batter into cookies by adding a different ingredient to the mix.
I'm not going to elaborate any more on this analogy, but I like it. That confirms it, I really am hungry.
I've moved cities. Again. I left the job that paid my rent so I could live in a beautiful apartment in between suburbia and the city, so I could get up and go to work at the job that gave me nothing but headaches and stress. I'm all too optimistic to think that I'm ready to settle for mediocre at twenty three. Where is the purpose in my purpose driven life? Where am I finding my peace and sense of self? That job has run it's course, I'm thankful for the opportunity, don't get me wrong, but I felt like I jumped ahead too many spaces. Story of my life.
I missed out on the fun, college-having, finding-yourself experiences of beer for breakfast... and lunch, LOST marathons instead of studying, when Malibu rum starts tasting like bad decisions, and guys in pastel shorts saying "brah": My LL Bean shirts wake up an hour before me to go sailing, brah - all that schtuff.
On to the next adventure.
Fader by The Temper Trap This song can make any Monday a dance party.