2005-11-10 || 7:40 p.m.

|| tea in the morning. decaf in the afternoon. aisle seats only. ||

i made cookies at work today. i was handed a ten-dollar bill and told to fetch cookie dough and milk from the market down the street.
this, most glamorously, is my job.

advice on making cookies in the corporate setting:
1. a toaster oven does not an oven make.
2. the cookies will surely burn; however, there will be at least one person in the office who will willingly eat them.
3. to rectify the 100-degree margin of error, one must run down the stairs in five-minute intervals to check on the progress of the cookies.
4. when someone comes out of his/her office to inform you it smells like burning, shrug your shoulders and run back upstairs.
5. use back stairs when your boss comes down to inquire about the burning smell.
6. baking cookies smell + the office environment = a break room full of jackals.

oh dear.
my job, despite its perks, continues to give me a stomach ache every day. executive/personal assistance might not be the ticket for the likes of nervous nellie me. but you really need to see the view from my office window. and the poodle two offices over greets me every day (i suspect she is shampooed regularly with vidal sassoon).

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