Confession: For a week now, I've been living a double life.
I'M HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH A WINDOWS MACHINE.
No, not really.
I'm actually having an affair with a CORPORATE CONSULTING GIG.
Or...working on one. Is that what you call it? Werrrr...king? I don't know. I'm rusty. But I sense I should probably drop the affair talk and sex metaphors. And put on some pants. Before I accidentally broadcast something unsavory over that laptop's webcam and VPN. And it's entirely possible that I will do just that because I have absolutely NO IDEA HOW ANYTHING WORKS ON IT. Microsoft has up and changed everything since I last used Windows and it's making me feel quite old and feebleminded. I spent 10 minutes on Friday trying to find the Reply button in Outlook. And then another 15 minutes trying to bookmark a website in Internet Explorer.
(Good thing I'm billing by the hour! HEY-YOOOO!)
(Dear Employer: That was a joke. Please don't fire me.)
Jason (after watching me type a web address in the search bar and a search term in the address bar for the 14th time in a row): Why don't you just install Chrome or FIrefox?
Amy: But I signed something saying I wouldn't download any software!
Jason: Amy, you're allowed to download a browser.
Amy: But the Imaginary Authority Figures!
(Strange laptops are full of them, you know.)
Jason: The WHAT?
(I still haven't downloaded a browser. That thing I signed was TWO PAGES LONG, you guys. I'm also not allowed use company email to forward chain messages. And I had only six more people to send that poem to before I got a WalMart gift card, alas.)
The job has absolutely nothing to do with Amalah, the blog or the blog personality. I'm doing bloggy-type social-media consulting stuff about blogs and the Twitters and the Socialinterest FaceTubes Plus and whatnot, LIKE ALWAYS, but in a nice non-mommyblogging Times I Got Drunk And Fell Down capacity. You'd probably find the details to be terribly, dreadfully dull.
Which is precisely why I find it so exciting. It's a perfect blend of What I Used To Do and What I Do Now, and every day I feel far corners of my brain -- the dusty business-y recesses -- snapping back to attention, even after a few years of neglect. I'm filling up page after page of legal pads with ideas and lists and tasks and brainstorms. I scribble stuff down on Post-Its on my nightstand and I bought a goddamn dry erase board at Target yesterday.
Jason: You know Windows has some great programs that'll let you just type all that stuff out and keep it organized and...
Amy: DON'T CRITICIZE MY OLD-SCHOOL PROCESS, YOU. IT'S STILL 2005 WHERE MY BRAIN LIVES, OKAY?
I'm terribly, almost uncomfortably busy. And I'm genuinely enjoying it, even the parts that involve talking to people on the phone. (SO MUCH PHONE, YOU GUYS.) I'm getting better at that, it turns out. Next up I hope to stop hitting the "home" key when I'm aiming for "backspace," like WHAT THE HELL, HOME KEY. YOU SERVE A VERY LIMITED, QUESTIONABLE PURPOSE.
(And yes, I am completely aware of the hilarious irony that I got my nose pierced in a defiant blaze of work-from-home glory, only to suddenly land a corporate job with The Man a week later. My brilliant timing, let me show you it.)
Anyway, I've got to get back to my strategery and planning to plan and man, these TPS reports ain't gonna TPS themselves, if you know what I mean. Plus I need to hang around the water cooler kitchen sink while talking to myself about Game of Thrones and wondering who keeps pouring herself the last cup of coffee without brewing another pot. God, this place, sometimes.