Aspiriations

First off, I apologize for this post. I went to work for a half-day, it was hot outside on the way back, and what do you know, but I have Woodchucks hard cider in the refrigerator. So now I have 12 ounces of that at 5% alcohol in my bloodstream and haven't eaten lunch... follow along and do the math! Or let the nearest cop do it! I bet they can do it in their heads.

But the thing you should take from that isn't the strange feeling of my brain trying to float out of my skull, but the fact that now I have a job! Buying the hard cider was in celebration. I just picked up a position at Valvoline Instant Oil Change.

A step up from food service? In my opinion. A good job? In my opinion. I get that it is still an entry level job, but it isn't food service... and I like the idea of doing oil change. It's mechanical in nature and I like things like that. I've always been interested in putting things together and fixing stuff, but I wanted to be unique and my little brother is now a helicopter mechanic out with the Marines in Afghanistan... so if anyone in the family was the fix-it person, it was him. And, you know, I'm a girl.

But that aside, they pay better starting than what I ended at Panera, they have seven holidays to Panera's two, they are closed Sundays (the one I'm at is), and they seem a lot nicer and a lot more chill. I was at work only a half day today, but it felt like I was hanging out. Even with cars to work on, it didn't feel that much like actual work.

Oh, I know it's all new and shiny (or dirty with engine grime, as the case may be), but it still seems like it would be better, even after the 100th or 1000th car. Better than asking 300 people a day if they want a drink with their meal. I know it gets busier, but I've been in busy situations and you just have to take it a step a time.

I think I could do this. And maybe in a year or so, if I don't still love it, I'll find something else to learn. But I like where I'm at right now.

My adopted grandfather-in-law said something along the lines of, "that seems a strange sort of thing for a girl to do. But we heard you liked that."

"I'm a strange sort of person," I replied.

I'm living my Mercy Thompson (urban fantasy, Patricia Briggs, my favorite) fantasy. I have oil under my boy-short nails.

I've also always been a bit of a boy, in some things. I don't wear makeup, but I get proud when I get oil under my nails, blisters, and make my knuckles bruise and bleed from boxing. This might be just the place for me.