The first candidate for my job is being interviewed even as I sit here manically typing. What a strange situation. I really feel I should be involved in the interviewing process. Oh, and instead of an “interview,” we should have an arm wrestling contest. Oh, and instead of me having to arm wrestle, I should make Tracy “Biceps” Miller my champion and let HER keep my job for me.
What I keep forgetting is that in two months it will no longer matter what job I have, because the majority of my time is going to be spent learning interesting facts about Joyce. Well, hopefully not Joyce, but maybe Forster. So except that I will miss Biceps Miller, all I really want in my next job is an opportunity to get paid for doing my homework.
Or, I could be an office manager for a charity assisting victims of ritual sexual abuse from cults.
In the meantime, I will continue to use my massive Chambrain powers to make photocopies, order office supplies, and be professionally pleasant.
“I’m very intelligent, you know,” I said.
“Well — you’re clever,” said Jon doubtfully. Seeing my stunned expression, he hastily added, “Oh, I don’t mind that you’re clever.”