With age comes the social assumption that you’ll go out and get a job. Part of being a grown up (ha!) I’m told.
So, I went and got myself one of those.
A real, honesttogod job. Not a job. A career, baby.
Or at least, the beginning of one.
I now officially work in digital marketing and communications. I sit behind a desk for nine hours a day, with a hundred internet tabs open and a bottomless cup of lukewarm coffee at my elbow.
I have half a million emails and I’ve deleted not a single one since my first day three weeks ago JUST IN CASE.
The office smells like slightly burnt toast most of the day and we definitely keep at least ten Post-it employees in their jobs.
Office lunch topics to date have included cadavers, organ donation, sex, epileptic pets, weird food habits, partner vs girlfriend (The Great Phrasing Debate), stage 5 clingers, Hugging: The Issue, and feral children.
Foosball is the official sport and matches are played every day at 17:30 NO EXCUSES.
I kind of love it.