The One Where Elizabeth Gets A Job

If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way.
–Napolean Hill

Since the downsizing and elimination of Mr. Bug's job at the end of March, the budget at Bug Cottage has been exceedingly tight. Mr. Bug has ventured out into the business world, but the revenue from his business has been less than 2% of our expenses over the last eight months. As our savings have dipped lower and lower I have become more and more anxious. And I finally decided it was time for me to stop lounging about and help with more than just spending the finances.

Of course, not just any job could lure me out of my comfy stay-at-home-mom gig. It had to be the perfect job. So, this summer I thought I'd give Weed Farmer* a try. I'm fond of gardening, weeds seem to grow well and it was something I could do in my own backyard. But as it turns out, that doesn't pay very well and the overalls made my butt look big. Royal Food Tester didn't pan out either; there was some fuss over me not being a naturalized British citizen and refusing to drink the tea. Jim Morrison won't return my phone calls, so Rockstar Developer is out. And there was simply too much paperwork involved in Celebrity Divorcee.

So I decided to go with Executive Assistant. For a job that practically fell into my lap without me really trying, it is pretty perfect. The hours are great, the company is growing, the staff is very nice and the dress-code is casual. And what does the Executive Assistant do there? Whatever the BossMan needs doing. My first official task was to turn up the heat. Only it was one of those digital, programmable thermostats that require 12 hours of on-site training to master. I hope the office isn't a hot house tomorrow morning. After that, the BossMan handed me an ugly yellow notepad and outlined the things he needed for me to do for him that day. It was interesting, to say the least and involved a trip to the bank, collecting contract hours for payroll, vacuuming {I take it back; a Kirby is not just a vacuum}, software training, and a phone call to the actual IRS {most of which was spent on hold}.

And the ugly yellow notepad? Well, apparently everyone has one. But that will never do for the Executive Assistant. I needed something pink. And a little bit sparkly. With an 'E' for Executive. Or Elizabeth. Whichever.

[*Editor's Note: It has been brought to my attention that I was trying to grow the wrong kind of weed(s). No wonder no one wanted to buy them. I suppose I should read the fine print before just diving in.]