Jobs, and Real Life

You know how you sometimes find an old diary (or shopping list, or letter you never sent) and you read it and think, "What...was I smoking?" I am sorting through some old papers from this summer's job, which ended on Friday, and I find a sheet that has, in my handwriting, the following:

July 27, 2005
"There's no money in it."
... Beyond the Mundane.
Stew?
Outgoing inquisitive observant talkative dancing.
Decisions! "Oh and by the way." Don't think about Pink Elephants.
Hair things for French Twists---

I have no idea what this means, or why I thought this made sense enough to write it down, but I'd better destroy the evidence.

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I feel like a grown up. I have a job. It comes with health insurance, life insurance, three ID badges, and a company credit card. The schedule on the Outlook calendar actually applies to me. I even have a name plate. Yes, a name plate.

My “office” is small and beige, like every other office I’ve ever been in, but this one has ample counter space and six drawers, unlike my first think tank workspace. There is a travel poster of Saudi Arabia propped up above the cube walls. I was issued a laptop - presumably because I will need it when I travel…it occurs to me that they may also expect me to take work home with it. And they took my picture and told me how much my relatives would get if I die, and how much will be set aside for my retirement in 2038. That’s why I feel like a grown up.