Monday, April 04, 2005

I ate so much last night that as I lay in bed wracked with abdominal pain, I thought I might have damaged my digestive system. Yeah, I ate that much raw bread dough.

Shut up, there's something nostalgic and satisfying about eating dough. My mother made homemade bread when I was very young, and I remember the soft, salty putty forming to the roof of my mouth before a chewed it and swallowed it down. Except the dough I gorged on last night was store bought, leftovers from the thawed and kneaded dough Joe used for pizza crust. It's something of a tradition in his family to make homemade pizza. He even used homemade sausage as a topping -- lovely.

Okay, now I'm reading it again and I know eating dough is gross. But I'll probably do it again.

I accepted the new job on Friday, but was disappointed when salary negotiations fell through. No negotiations. Period. I guess the part that really burned my waffles was being told my military experience didn't count,

1.) because it was before I graduated from college and
2.) the job description asked for "corporate and/or agency" experience, not anything else.

This would be frustrating enough if I was a cook or a mechanic, but I was a Public Affairs Officer. My degree is in Public Relations. I've been a member of WMPRSA for years. That experience closely matches the rest of my experience at both an agency and at a corporate level.

In fact, the more I thought about it this weekend, the more I regretted accepting so quickly. But what the hell was I going to do? It's time to move on.

Thinking back, I remember how excited I was to get the offer from my current employer, how it seemed like such a huge leap forward after working for peanuts in the PR Agency from Hell. Now this new opportunity seems like a dream come true, despite the fact that they won't consider my military experience.

I'm sure once I start freelancing, leaving this next job will feel like that first deep breath of spring air. You know that smell -- wet, wormy, warm. Makes you want to kick off your new flipflops and sink your waxen, colorless toes into the dark mud. Makes you glad to be alive, even if you can't pay your long distance phone bill, your bedroom is a complete mess and you haven't even started your taxes.

My last day is April 13.


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