A Cubicle to Call My Own

As if in karmic response to my previous post I got a job last week.  A grown up job, in an office, without a uniform or non-slip shoes.  While I am miffed that I can no longer wallow in self-indulgent jobless despair (read: sit around and eat while watching all the episodes of 30 Rock On Demand) I can't tell you how happy I am to have a job that sounds good when you talk about it.

Yes I can. It's very happy.

Worked an entire day without being coated in syrup! What what?!

I am working for Busch Gardens (and not in the park in a costume, as is my theme park experience thus far) in their Sales and Marketing Department.  Yeah, baby! Corporate. I have an ID card with credentials and permissions to do stuff and touch things.  My official job is a member of the group sales team and I am specifically in charge of travel and tourism.  Essentially, if you and your choir, church group, nudist colony, etc. decide you want to spend a joyous day at Busch Gardens in scenic Williamsburg, VA and you decide to book it through a travel or tourist agency I'm your girl.  So, you know, do that. Keep me hired.

Yesterday was my first day and, through no real fault of my new employer, I've spent the last two days being relatively useless.  It turns out there isn't a whole lot for me to do just yet as I have to wait for all of my fancy (and apparently numerous and disparate) approvals to process so I can do things like turn on the computer, access the internet, and have a stapler.  So I've been enjoying getting paid a handsome enough hourly sum to:
1. Spin in my new office chair
2. Make grocery lists
3. Read every piece of information on Busch Gardens ticketing and tour packages in the entire office multiple times
4. Plan how I'll decorate my little cubicle
5. Consider checking Pinterest for clever cubicle decorating ideas
6. Read a Virginia tourism magazine and make a list of all the places I'd like to visit and things I'd like to do and
7. Stare down the clock and will something to do into existence.

My face during hours 1-8 of my day.

However, the nice ladies I work with (my cubineighbors, if you will) have been attempting to show me a bit of what I'll be doing and it looks like once I'm allowed to work I'll have plenty to keep me busy.  Coupled with my work at the diner on weekends I'll be sleeping like a baby/blackout drunk in no time.

Oh, and I'm sure this is totally no big deal, but I've never even seen a Busch Gardens park before. Guess I know what the fiance and I are doing for this week's Sunday Funday activity.  The trouble is fiance is an engineer by training and, as a result of being too smart, over thinks roller coasters and has the reasonable fear of them most humans should when confronted with something that wants to hurl them through the air at unreasonable speeds held in only by a harness, some G-Forces, and fervently whispered prayer.  I suspect I, being a liberal arts major and completely undaunted by things like "physics" and "logic" and "self-preservation," will get to enjoy the single rider lines.  He is a good sport.

"I'm paying to taunt physics... My God, what have I done?"