For the past two weeks, I have been working as a temp at a law office in Downtown Crossings. I have learned a few things in my time here, such as how to make double sided document copies, how to FedEx super confidential paper work, and how to keep my turkey sandwich fresh until lunch time.
All very valuable knowledge, but there is one major life lesson that I will take with me at the end of the week: I am so not cut out for the corporate, suit wearing, stick up my ass world of work.
And that's OK. I can deal with the fact that I will never be rich, I will never be classy, and I will never hate my life.
Last night you (the over worked suits wearing people) were probably enjoying your prime rib dinner at Morton's, while I was happily enjoying my Lucky Charms dinner, which I ate straight from the box walking through Coolidge Corner at 11pm.
You probably went to law school right after college.
I serve burgers and spend my free time watching The Kardashians, or writing about sucker like you.
You might spend your summer weekend sailing on your yacht in the vineyard. Up until 5 minutes ago, I didn't even know how to spell the word 'yacht', so that lets that out.
On the down side, you are probably 40 years old and I feel the need to take an iron to your stressed mess of a face. I have more hair on my left eyebrow (but not my right one) than you have on your head. And when your wife calls, she is an angry little fire breathing dragon.
So maybe I won't get the view of the Boston skyline out an office window. That's ok with me.
For now, I will continue to be your copy bitch and search for my future non-life sucking job on your dime. And blog, about you, on your dime. And if you don't like that, sue me. Your forehead can use another wrinkle.
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