It was great.
To answer those burning questions previously stated: I woke up at 7:10 a.m. I got dressed. I even had time to make tea. I ended up driving, not taking the bus, but there were probably smelly men in suits driving beside me at some point. There was a coffee break, but at Peet’s, not in the office kitchen. I did, however, use the kitchen to microwave remnants of cafe au lait at the end of the day.
I could detail every minute between my 8:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. workday. I could say that all Oakland citizens should thank me for my meticulous copy editing. I could brag about my new desk, with a cushy chair and beautiful iMac. And my new email address, where I’m affectionately and uniquely called “firstname.lastname@example.org.” I could tell the riveting story of the bank robbery surely happening next door — the closest window had a perfect view of two cops intensely circling the building. I could explain how I felt like I was in The Office all day, as my desk was in the sales room. Are salespeople always funny?
But, I don’t really feel like it. I’m beat. I’m going to bed.