This week I get clean BEFORE going to work instead of needing a shower AFTER working.
Here's another weird thing: I'm getting paid to pick up the phone. It took me until two hours into the first shift before I realized that I actually... kind of...hate picking up the phone.
But it's not calling for me and they don't want anything from me and I only have to push a few buttons to send the phone call to where it needs to go. And they're paying me. So it's okay.
Another weird thing: I'm answering phones while the salesmen are selling cars. You know what? I could do what they do. I could sell pickup trucks. I love trucks. You might already know that about me. I love all trucks. GMC, Dodge, Ford. All the trucks.
I could sell you an F-150.
One of the guys decided I'm his good luck charm because I referred to him as The F-150 Guy after he sold one, and then went and sold another one the next day.
See? I'm good with trucks.
And here's one thing that I don't think is weird at all:
I am wearing platform wedge slingback black and white gingham shoes to work.
Now you might thing it's weird, because I wear boots a lot, and I feel like me when I'm in boots. But I'm wearing high heels and I'm walking in them. I am driving my truck in them. I put 'em on and I leave 'em on. Because you know what? I COMMIT.
Also, they're GINGHAM. What good country girl doesn't love gingham eh?
And they were only twelve bucks. So I gotta wear them to justify that huge extravagant expense.
Well, that and we've only got a few nice days left before fall hits hard, so I'd like to be able to see my toes. Soon it'll be woolly socks and I won't see my toes until, like, next May.
It's kind of interesting, doing this little temporary gig. It's been about eighteen years since I had a job like this. I do believe this could all come out in a book someday. That's what happens with fiction writers. Everything in life becomes potential fiction fodder.