Julie the Wife, Reporting Live

This is Julie the Wife, reporting live from The Full Time Job I Can't Blog About.

This is my last day of full-time employment here, and so I have decided to report to you from the bunker.

It is dim on my floor, which is open to all cubbies and corners of the other employees, because they only have every other light bulb screwed in to save on supplies.  My light flickers over my desk, and the room is quiet except for the sound of muted human suffering.

Laughter breaks out across the room, and everyone turns in surprise to see who has found joy in the building.

Today, I have broken all of the laws, and I am wearing a brown turtleneck with...gasp...jeans, and my German dancin' clogs.  I did not shower.  I did not wash my hair.  I brought chocolate chip bars for the people who volunteered for my last event, because volunteers are few and far between and they must be taken care of.  I brought guacamole because the people in the next department are having a Snack Day, and the guac is my ticket to snacking all day long.

I am openly speaking to other employees in a way that makes it obvious I'm not talking about work-related issues.  I am blogging on my personal blog, and drinking coffee.  It's not just any coffee - it is a Starbucks Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte, nectar of the Gods.  Today is a special day and I deserve a special coffee.  It takes so little to bring me joy. 

The Full Time Job I Can't Blog About does not provide coffee for employees, and so my boss brought in her own coffee pot from home.  We have to hide our coffee pot because other people will come filch your coffee.  In other departments, the coffee pots have big threatening signs on them that say things like, "IF YOU DON'T BRING IT, YOU DON'T DRINK IT" and "THIS IS NOT A PUBLIC COFFEE POT - PAY FOR USE" and "IF YOU DRINK MY COFFEE I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS".   On the black market here, a cup of coffee costs $42.  This is how I've supplemented my meager salary, by selling cups of coffee in the back hallways.  The crack rocks and Rolexes I sell go for under $40, but the coffee can bring in $60-70 on a good day.

Can I just take a moment and say that the people I work with here are terrific.  I feel like I'm going to have post-traumatic stress disorder and survivor's guilt.  I left the burning car with people in it, and as I ran from the wreckage they yelled, "Don't forget about me if your company is hiring!  Take my resume with you!"  I am like Daniel Day-Lewis in Last of the Mohicans - "Keep yourself alive!  I promise, I will return for you!"

It is 9:45 a.m. I have seven hours left.  It is Snack Day, Coffee Day, and Clogs Day.  I'm ready to clock out, when my world will suddenly be in Technicolor, and the Munchkins will accompany me along the yellow brick road and Glinda the Good Witch will tell me to tap my Dansko clogs together and say, "There's No Place Like Home", and CH will wake me up and say, "It was just a bad dream - can we have sex?"

To those of you who are stuck in a job you may or may not hate to the depths of your soul, get that resume together - somewhere over the rainbow there is a job you will like, I promise. 

UPDATE:  To all of my co-workers who were just told this morning I have a blog and are now reading it, on their computer screens in front of potential management view, a couple of things:

A)  You are wonderful people, I didn't lie.
B)  CLOSE OUT OF THIS BLOG NOW!  It is for home reading.  My Attorney will tell you I don't want to get in any trouble.
C)  Please know that my readers understand that I am an entertainer, not a historian.