Yeah, I probably shouldn’t blog about work – you know, just in case. Well, I guess I won’t. Not entirely.
Things at the office are still in flux – I’m sure this couldn’t be the cause of my still visible cold sore. Nope. Not at all.
All signs point to me doing very similar things to what I have been doing and most likely with the same clients. What is less certain is the person I’ll be reporting to – the third one on 18 months. I don’t know here, I don’t know how we’ll get along. I also don’t know if my clients will be the same.
The biggest thing is I don’t know if there is or will be any growth for me here. The Magic 8 Ball would say ‘all signs point to no’.
A guy I work with has lamented that there are no good pubs in town. He’s right. Not that I go out drinking anymore, but I don’t know of one place I’d want to go to – let alone in, or for multiple visits. He keeps bringing up the thought that we should open one.
g-d help me, it is an intriguing idea. Not that I want to work every night or mop up someone’s vomit the next morning. But that’s what you hire ‘help’ for – right? I can be in charge of the books and the jukebox. I can deal with what anyone picks on the box, since I’ve selected everything in it. In my head, I’ve immediately picked “Is That All There Is?” by Miss Peggy Lee as the first song selection. I loved it in the movie After Hours, but I always remember it on the jukebox at the oldest bar in Houston, that Becky took us to.
Owning a pub might be a job instead of a career, but right now, my career just looking like just a job.
Song by: the Tragically Hip