In Good Company
We had our annual company kickoff meeting today.
A four hour event with a catered lunch, an open bar and even a short burst of pyrotechnics. It pays to work at an advertising agency with an event planning department. Literally. I took the job for the stable benefits six years ago and couldn't be happier with the decision Since then, Obamacare has come and gone. Newspapers have gone from a hallowed institution to a dying breed. And I, the former journalist, got a promotion and added the words "Senior" and "Strategist" to my title.
I didn't sell out; I lucked out.
I get a stable paycheck, a reasonable healthcare deductible and the chance to work with smart, creative people who seem to like me despite my flaws.
Today I'm feeling grateful for my day job; grateful for the rich desserts and the bad jokes and the break from all the writing and planning and strategizing. My brain is fried. Now all I need is an IV of reality TV and Twilight novels and US Weekly magazines. Just course that shit through my veins, like chemotherapy, and let it kill any lofty aspirations of New York Times bylines and literary merit. I'll relapse eventually, anyway. My ambition is malignant. It keeps spreading to inconvenient places. And it will be the death of me but oh, the things I will create before I go.