You Know It’s The Perfect Place…
Saturday, July 18th, 2009… for my husband to work when he receives his flight/hotel itinerary and interview schedule along with a note that reads like this:
Dress here is casual, so wearing a suit is not necessary – please dress comfortably.
His smug grin when I sighed and said, “Okay, fine, I’ll unpack the suit from your suitcase,” indicated he deserved a good kick in the ass. Although I can’t deny that for Mr. Jeans-T-shirt-ponytail-flip-flops, the dress code is right up his comfort zone. He’s gonna fit right in.
He’s kind of in shock that the company is paying for him to fly out there, stay in a beautiful hotel downtown, and eat whatever the hell his stomach can hold. I’m not. He’s great at what he does, and I’m honestly a bit jealous of how good he really is in the world of computer software engineering.
Now, if only I could find a job posting that went something like this:
Wanted: Smart-ass with a great sense of humor needed for sarcastic commentary and silly writing. Part-time position that makes millions. Must be able to eat it as well as dish it. Benefits include free coffee, kitchen space and ingredients for goody-baking obsessions, and Prozac with doctor’s prescription. On-site babysitting included, so your spawn can tag along. Anxiety issues, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and postpartum depression a plus.
Current Mood:
Happy
Alarmed