The Receptionist

I am the luckiest girl in the world. When I decided to quit my job last February, I had a friend (let's call her Malison), who took me under her wing and between her and her boyfriend, they made sure I'd feel secure and able to support my family. At the same time I quit, the receptionist at Malison's boyfriend's company quit--he offered me the job on my terms. Simply, I was there for 4 hours a day and while I was there I should answer the phones (the phones are on an automated system. That means they ring at the front desk only when someone doesn't know already who they need to talk to. This happens on average 5 times a day), sort the mail (small office; not really that much mail), and with the rest of my free time: work on my writing. None of the other staff members were allowed to ask me to do any of their work.

It was heaven.

As of last Friday, that break from my real life has ended. There was drama. It was like a reality show: backstabbing, conniving, people being sent home, a new Head of Household. And I couldn't stay. I'm not sure there was anyone there who actually wanted me to (especially since I never impressed them with any of my skills), but I didn't give them the opportunity to vote me off; I just left.

And now I'm back where I started from. Only this time there is not cushy job to fall back on. This time I actually have to try. I can't just wait for opportunities to fall in my lap; I actually have to go out and find them. And it's scary.

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