It is the oddest thing to find yourself as the working subordinate to someone a little less than your own age and maturity. I, myself, choose to blame it on a late distinction toward working, and I'm entirely alright with that. "Personal growth time," I'll call it. The job world thus far has been more entertaining in prospect than factually worthwhile, which makes this current endeavor all the more enticing. I am officially an employee with a large corporate organization, one who will learn the lackey ropes of initiation and gradually move myself along whatever ladder I choose until, ultimately, I reassert my efforts elsewhere. That will come sooner rather than later, mind you, but I'm down with it. I call it, "Experimentation in Pursuit of an Artistic Lifestyle."
However, I have an undeniably soothing and almost prophetic understanding that I will continue to survive as long as I look younger than my seventeen-year-old manager.
I am going to enjoy my month-long stint in grunt work. It is already gloriously visible.
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