I’d Like to Do More Than Survive, I’d Like to Rub it in Your Face

I went to lunch today with my hardest-working coworker, Sara.  She’s been around the longest, excluding the managers and directors.  The amount of knowledge and pride she has in her work astounds me.  I think it must be great to feel a sense of fulfillment from your 8-5 job.  We’re vastly different people when it comes to that.  I’m grateful to be employed, but I’m a big dreamer.  It doesn’t help that I have a window in my cubicle.  I think it’s a metaphor for how my concentration is never 100% on the job at hand.  My mind is on writing in some way at least 24.5 hours of the day.  When I was first getting to know Sara I asked her what she like to do outside of work.  I’m slowly learning about her, but I’m still waiting to hear the big story about her life’s passion.

Whether we crunch numbers or put out office fires, we all love something that makes coming home from work, or escaping from work, so desirable.  Notorious MAG is the diva of TV.  It’s a huge responsibility keeping up on the latest news and she takes her job very seriously!  She mapped out the fall schedule on a spreadsheet, and now she’s anxiously awaiting the holy bible of TV—Entertainment Weekly’s annual fall preview.

Though I lament my job sometimes, I think I must be doing something right.  There are three (indirect) coworkers in my very large department (400+) that have recently given me a lot of positive feedback.  They see my bright, shiny face at a lot of meetings.  I leave most of the attitude in my desk drawer; I find I don’t need it so much when I’m around really great people.  They’ve given me a sense that my work is appreciated, and helped me set boundaries with my unscrupulous coworkers.  Two have gone so far as to offer me a chance to work with them.  I may entertain the idea sometime down the road, but at this point I’ve just learned to tread water, I’d like to see where my potential can take me.

Tomorrow I’m going to a committee meeting for the professional women’s organization.  I may run into my old boss.  I haven’t decided what I’ll say.  Perhaps I’ll take Lucky 10-Key’s favorite bit of advice and tell the dreaded woman she can suck it.  Let’s face it though, I’ll probably just stand up straight and be as inscrutable as ever.  I need to find the right outfit for that though.  It will require ironing sometime tonight.  Gah!  I’ve just realized that Professional Women probably don’t wear jeans and sandals to meetings.  Blast!

As a treat for not backing out of the organization, and perhaps not committing homicide, I’ll probably go to lunch with Weltsie at The Smarty Pants Club.  Maybe we’ll mingle with the snooty academic types I’ve heard so much about, but have seen so little of since starting at the university’s housing department.  I’ll order the entrée of insecurity linguini, and for dessert I’ll have a chocolate chip-on-the-shoulder cookie.  Delish.

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