So, this might surprise a lot of my long-time readers (all five of you) and most of the people who know me in real life (um . . . the rest of you), but I am like the nicest person alive when I'm at work. I think it's because I'm getting paid to be nice. I find it easier to smile if someone is giving me money for it. Maybe easier is the wrong word. Anyway, so at work I'm totally nice and a model employee. This comes in handy when I have to deal with some of the assholes who come into our office. Did I say assholes? I meant patients (no, I didn't).
However, we do have some people that come in that are nicer for free (!) than I'd be for a hundred million dollars. So, I feel like I have to be extra nice to them. This one lady came in yesterday and gave me a box of chocolate JUST BECAUSE I'M NICE TO HER and also a card that says nicer things about me than I deserve. Thank you, nice lady! This is better than the time that little girl gave me a picture of Dora The Explorer! I also get to have conversations with nice, tiny children that go something like this:
Tiny Child: Guess how old I am?
Me: Seventeen?
Tiny Child: Nooooo.
Me: Fifty-eight?
Tiny Child: Nooo!
Me: One and a half?
Tiny Child: No!
Me: OK, how old are you?
Tiny Child: This many!
Me: Four fingers?! Wow!
Tiny Child: I know.
OK. Why does Phoebe always wait to poo in her litter box until I get home from work? And then she doesn't cover it up (why, CAT, why???) and it's not like cat poo smells like roses. It doesn't. It smells like human poo, only worse.
You guys know how I got called for jury duty? Heh, duty. Well, I was talking to my mom today and it turns out SHE got called for jury duty the same day I did. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "No! Way! Jennie, what forces of the universe had to collide to bring forth this inconceivable turn of events?" And I say to you this! Seriously? How the hell should I know? I know not of how possible jurors are chosen, all I know is that I AM THE CHOSEN ONE.
Also, so is my mom.
Anyway, I'm glad I'll at least have someone to talk to, but my mom being there does lower the chances of me meeting my soulmate, aka Rich, Fancy Lawyer Who Will Buy Me Things. Seriously. I need a sugar daddy (not the candy) in the worst way.
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