It's official. After three years of watcing soap operas, napping, and lounging around on my fat ass eating bon-bons, I am re-entering the work force.
Okay, even I couldn't keep a straight face writing that out. I haven't watched a soap opera since I was about 13, my ass, while not quite as trim as it was 10 years ago, is certainly not fat, and I prefer chips to candy or chocolate. I'll totally cop to the napping.
I've been throwing around the idea of getting a part time job for a while now. And since I'm nothing if not dedicated to procrastination, it's taken me about a year and a half to get to the actual point of dropping off resumes. Which I did on Sunday. At the mall. Because retail is just what I'm looking for right now - easy.
Bright and early Monday I got a call from the store that I actually hoped to get an interview at. After scrambling trying to find someone to watch the hooligans (didn't happen) I set it up for Tuesday afternoon.
And I totally rocked the interview. I knew I did, and I knew I got the job. But, just as a parent may take perverse pleasure in embarassing her children, potential employers take satisfaction in waiting until the end of the next day before calling a person and telling them they got the job. I had given up hope and was thanking my lucky stars I hadn't written anything publicly on facebook so I didn't look like a loser that I didn't get a mall job. Because I am all weird like that.
But of course I got the job! I'm batting 6 for 7 here. I think that's the correct baseball terminology? I go in today to pick up the employment package and I'm guessing I'll start sometime next week. Time to start saving up for my trip in September, you know all those American stores will be calling my name!
Not to mention, the opportunity to interact with other humans besides Thing One and Thing Two. Who are total cutie pies, don't get me wrong. But they're exhausting and honestly a job at this point would be a vacation.