Force work

At a recent job interview I was asked about my flexibility to work evenings, weekends and holidays – on top of the 40 hour work week. “This is a twenty-four-hour, 365-day job,” said interviewer. If I was trying out for press secretary for the President of the United States I wouldn’t have blinked. If I was applying for the position of Britney Spears’ publicist I would have already planned my going away party, just in case I had to join Team Britney right then and there. But for censored company ? Eh.

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Out of range

I never know how to answer. I feel as if I sell myself short. But it is a funny time. And by funny I don’t mean Ha Ha.

I’m referring to the dreaded salary question. I never know how to answer. Sure, I’ve had the urge to ask for six hundred thousand million dollars in the hopes that they would talk me down to four hundred thousand million trillion, but that is too risky and so not me.

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Sometimes silence

shh

Silence is golden. Sometimes.

Sometimes you need outside noise to distract from that really annoying inner voice.

I’m sure you’ve met that voice, in a bar, at a game, at a charity event. The voice overwhelms you with fascinating observations that should never be spoken and then simultaneously takes it away so you can never reach a piece of paper in time.

I wish it wouldn’t speak to me at all.

But the other extreme, complete silence, is horrible. It’s what I imagine as death: one big, “Shhh!” No inside or outside voice. Certainly no paper or pen readily handy.

Inner voice wins again.