Come January, I will have been at Dicks 'N Balls for ten years. That's a long-ass time for me to have the same job. I started working temp and was made full-time in a month. I never meant this to be a long-term thing. I never meant for my marriage to end either, but it did and the two things happened to coincide, so here I am.
I know I bitch a lot about my job, but it really isn't that horrible, I've had much worse. It's just not a good fit for me. I doubt if any clerical position would really suit me. Organization and attention to detail aren't my thing. I'm an impulsive, emotional-driven kind of gal. I don't know what kind of work those qualities make me suited for. Soap opera writer, maybe? Tester for bipolar meds? Professional five-year-old?
The truth is, of course, that the only thing I can do well is act. I'm not complaining, I'm uber-grateful for the gift. And if I had to choose between being able to act and being able to create an Excel spreadsheet. . . .well, you know how this sentence is going to end.
If I could turn back time (pause while you curse me for getting that song stuck in your head), when I quit college after my junior year I should have taken six months off, gone out to the desert, done a lot of peyote and thought about my life. But, instead, I enrolled in Duff's Business Institute (no relation to the beer) and learned Gregg Shorthand, which is now obsolete, whereas I still use all the acting techniques I learned in college. I'm sure there's some deeply ironic, philosophical point here, but I'll let you Choose Your Own Adventure on this one.
I am very lucky to have a job. I have way too many friends who don't and can't find one, so I have no right to bitch about mine, imperfect as it is. However, in Debbieland. . . . . .
You do what you want to do and get paid in whatever you feel you need at the time. Cure cancer for cocktails? Sure! Take out trash for a trip to Tahiti? Why not? Guide the government for gumdrops? Well, hell, Reagan did it for jelly beans, so have at it! Anything for anything. It doesn't even have to be alliterative!
In the meantime, thank you Dicks 'N Balls for employing my very non-clerical-like self. Unless I find a job as a professional five-year-old, then I'm outa here.