Did you know I'm kind of a big deal at work now?
And I mean the "kind of." I'm not a really big deal, and I don't want to be. That's a lot of responsibility, and the world (and me) just isn't ready for that. Also, I don't think that sentance is grammatically correct. But you know what? I count enough money each night that if that money were mine, I could pay someone to not only ghost-write for me, but ghost-speak.
I'm not sure what that would look like; a sheet with eye-holes standing in front of me? Do you actually have to pay a ghost-speaker in money, or endoplasm, or maybe kryptonite?
But anyway. I am no longer the queen in my small principality of a campus store. I'm more like the daughter of the empress of a much larger empire, and one that counts at least 10 cash register drawers a night now.
The summer is (FINALLLY) fast approaching, and those students are (FINALLY) about to leave to wherever they are going for the summer (FINALLY). I realize that students are the reason for my job. But they still drive me crazy, because for a fairly selective school, they can be astronomically dumb. I was going down the stairs last night at the student center, and I heard this conversation:
"I just really want to be naked right now, you know?" said a girl.
"Yeah? It's a good thing you aren't fat then." said her friend.
"I know. I just want to take my clothes off. Ugh."
This actually happened. I had to hear it. I couldn't not hear it, as I was needing to go downstairs, and they were 2 steps ahead of me, and I couldn't just turn around at that point since I was halfway down the second flight of stairs. Plus, I might miss some other pearls of wisdom falling from their lips.
It turns out I didn't miss anything.
And I mean the "kind of." I'm not a really big deal, and I don't want to be. That's a lot of responsibility, and the world (and me) just isn't ready for that. Also, I don't think that sentance is grammatically correct. But you know what? I count enough money each night that if that money were mine, I could pay someone to not only ghost-write for me, but ghost-speak.
I'm not sure what that would look like; a sheet with eye-holes standing in front of me? Do you actually have to pay a ghost-speaker in money, or endoplasm, or maybe kryptonite?
But anyway. I am no longer the queen in my small principality of a campus store. I'm more like the daughter of the empress of a much larger empire, and one that counts at least 10 cash register drawers a night now.
The summer is (FINALLLY) fast approaching, and those students are (FINALLY) about to leave to wherever they are going for the summer (FINALLY). I realize that students are the reason for my job. But they still drive me crazy, because for a fairly selective school, they can be astronomically dumb. I was going down the stairs last night at the student center, and I heard this conversation:
"I just really want to be naked right now, you know?" said a girl.
"Yeah? It's a good thing you aren't fat then." said her friend.
"I know. I just want to take my clothes off. Ugh."
This actually happened. I had to hear it. I couldn't not hear it, as I was needing to go downstairs, and they were 2 steps ahead of me, and I couldn't just turn around at that point since I was halfway down the second flight of stairs. Plus, I might miss some other pearls of wisdom falling from their lips.
It turns out I didn't miss anything.
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