Monday, September 19, 2005

The New Kid

I had managed to avoid getting McDonald's for lunch for almost an entire year. Today Brad started working two cubicles down, and now I'm full to the brim with Big Mac and french fries. He is some kind of fast food divining rod, or--let's cut to the chase--a lard magnet. I didn't even know where the McDonald's was, but walking down Varick with Brad it appeared in front of me, a shimmering red and gold oasis with a beef tallow reflecting pool.

Over our burgers in the lunch room/hallway, I thought about how much I've complained about my job during the last year. It has occupied virtually all of time. I spend most of my daytime hours at my job, and the remaining hours complaining to people about my job. I've gone on about six interviews for alternate jobs, and received none. And clearly, when I am so desperate to get out that I consider taking a job as an administrative assistant at Reader's Digest, the Xanax of magazines, the obvious course of action is to finagle one's best friend an interview at the same misery-inducing corporation.

It's true that my job isn't as bad as I occasionally (or, y'know, incessantly) make it out to be. My direct boss is one of the nicest people I've ever met, nevermind worked for, and nothing I've ever been asked to do has been difficult, or back-breaking, or life-threatening. My biggest complaint is boredom or frustration and neither of those, to my knowledge, has ever killed a man. My other problem was the concentration of bizarre and occasionally infuriating co-workers, but Brad's presence has tipped the scales in my favor.

Plus, they're paying for me to stay at the Hilton in D.C. for two nights in October. I'm the kind of kid who nearly throws up at the prospect of spending a night at an Econo-Lodge (Free shampoo! A free pen! So, so many washcloths, and all so stiff!), the idea of staying at the Hilton is forcing me to consider making one of those kindergarten-style calendars for exing off the days one by one with a marker attached with string.

Everything is more exciting when you can count down towards it in Sharpie.


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