9-5

I got a real job.

That’s right, you read it right. I got a job. One that doesn’t involve the words, “Can I take your order?”

I’m a personal assistant to two real estate agents (brokers? I’m not sure what they are), and so far, I’m bored to tears.

It’s a giant change, going from carrying food to filing papers. Last week, I was constantly on my feet, surrounded by sweaty servers and exhausted cooks, pausing to to converse with my coworkers, exchanging gossip and telling jokes. Now, I sit at a desk all day, playing solitaire, carrying out orders, and occasionally picking up the phone, watching the minutes tick by and cherishing my bathroom breaks. Instead of carrying around an apron full of straws, napkins, and pens, I carry around a purse with two cell phones and a palm pilot—a true business woman!

I’m starting to miss the waitressing life. Dumb, I know. I have this great job with steady pay and benefits, and I miss my old job, one that would only provide about 15 hours of work a week!

I know, I know. I need to stop complaining.