Shameless

I'm glad that I am still at the point in my life where I can (and should) have little to no shame.

Before the finale, Shwartzy, MM, Coney, and I were reminiscing on our previous food service jobs. The T-Bell. The BK. The Slab. Shwartzy lit up talking about her plans to work the graveyard drive-thru shift at McDonalds to afford her rent this summer. She'll spend her days doing theatre. She mimicked herself two months from now, "What's that, drunk dude at 3 AM? You want ten ice cream cones? You got it!"

And we all agreed we actually quite enjoyed food service jobs. Not waitressing and being a chef and all that, and not as a career maybe, but yeah. I do like mixing expresso shots, chopping strawberries, opening the salsa jugs.

And it occurs to me that I've got at least another good seven years before it becomes even remotely weird for me to work in food service. I don't have any immediate plans to. Yet, at the same time, I feel like it could be a career. I mean, not at Wendy's. But, at like, classier places--like Noodles and Co.

That was a joke.

Kind of.

ANYWAY, I'm also happy I have a successful but quirky resume to my name. Over lunch, I watched ESPN's best of the National Spelling Bee. (Whatever.) And, of course, I googled my fave winners to see if they are cool or just peaked at the Bee. And, one went to Harvard and has a fancy job, and the others were lost to cyberspace. I mean, I'm not that creepy--I didn't look THAT hard. But, like, if I had gone to Harvard, I would have so much shame about food service, right? I'd feel dumb for wasting a ton of money on my degree that landed me a spot at Smoothie King, and that's very sad, because if you knew me at all, you'd know I would be quite thrilled to work at Smoothie King. More proof that doing the "best" thing doesn't always mean it's the best thing.

I cannot name this.
I cannot explain this,
and I really don't want to.
Just call me shameless.