tales of a working woman

so i have some interesting experiences at work sometimes. surprisingly enough, i'm pretty satisfied with my job. i think it's because i walked in with rock bottom expectations, so now everything pretty much exceeds any thoughts i had previously entertained. i think the enjoyment stems from my recent discovery that i'm kind of OCD. (like when i'm driving in the car and i turn up the volume, i have to have it on a multiple of 5. like 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, etc. i can't stand it when it's at any other level. it drives me crazy.) i like to organize things. i like to put things in order. i really like using post-its to label stacks of files. actually i like using post-its for anything. i go through a ridiculous amount of post-its. i hope no one notices. they might start taking it out of my check.

although i do get a strange satisfaction from my work, there are drawbacks. it is pretty boring most of the time. yesterday, for example, i experienced a combination of boredom and fatigue that was so strong i was literally going cross-eyed in a desperate attempt not to pass out at my desk. and the fact that i like to put things in order means that things are very disordered to begin with, which often leads to extreme frustration and me wanting to set myself on fire a lot. and every once in a while there are these little black bugs in the office. it's kind of annoying (and gross and makes my coworker scratch a layer off of her skin in a nervous habit because bugs really freak her out), but i created a little game to entertain myself: when i see one crawling across the filing cabinet next to me, i flip it over on its back and look over now and then to see how long it takes for it to flip back over. (repeat.) i'm really aware of how sick and strange that is, so you don't need to tell me thanks, but these are the things that make the day go by just that much faster.

also, i came to find out the other day that basically everyone that i work with in the office was operating under the impression that i was 17 years old.
conversation #1:
coworker: "my husband is really good friends with your brother! i was telling him about how you work here now and he said the last time he saw you you were like 5! and then i was like oh no she's gotta be about 17 now. you're 17 right? or are you 18?"
me: "umm...i'm 20."
(awkward silence ensues)

conversation #2:
coworker (different one): "oh my gosh my daughter would love that! she's 17 too."
me: "umm...i'm 20."
(awkward silence ensues)

there are other instances that i could cite, but really it's just a little too humiliating. you know, when i was in high school everyone thought i was in college. and now that i'm in college, everyone thinks i'm in high school. go figure.

on a more important note, i had a life-validating conversation with another coworker two days ago at lunch:

coworker: "how old are you?" (hey, at least she didn't assume i was 17)
me: "i'm 20."
coworker: "no ring- i assume you're not married?"
me: "that would be correct."
coworker: "do you have any kids?"
me: "uh...no."
coworker: "boyfriend?"
me: "nope."
coworker (looking over at fellow coworker): "dang. she's doing good. i wish my daughters were like that."

so there you have it- i am to be congratulated for being 20 years old, unmarried, childless, and boyfriendless! take THAT 75% of the population at BYU! somebody give me a klondike bar. i got places to go, people to see, and things to do. no babies, no boys. just me.