THE LAST FIVE ...

Closing up shop
- Wednesday, Aug. 02, 2006

It may be time for a change
- Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Entry in the air
- Friday, April 21, 2006

Still here
- Thursday, April 20, 2006

Music of the moment
- Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Or ... BE RANDOM!


GOOD READS

101 in 1001
American Road Trip, 1998


OTHER PEOPLE

Chupatintas
Dancing Brave
Fugging It Up
Kitty Sandwich
Mister Zero
Sideways Rain
Ultratart
Velcrometer


THE BASICS

My crew
Latest
Older
Notes
Our host
Profile

Monday, June 27, 2005 - 7:04 p.m.

Status symbol

You always want to move up in the world. You want to improve yourself, improve your standing in life. Improve your income.

I came to this job three years ago come September. I didn't know exactly what it would entail, how I'd take to it, what opportunities it would provide for me. I still don't know how long I'll stay. But no matter how I feel about working here, I want to advance myself. I want to do well.

This morning, I came into the office not knowing what to expect from today, unaware of what twists the fates might send my way.

I had no idea my standing here was about to change in a major way.

"Dan, it's Jen," the message on my voice mail began, "please give me a call when you get a chance."

I was intrigued. Why would our company's office manager -- the den mother of this motley group -- be calling me?

Then it all became clear:

I got a parking space.

Finally, some recognition! Some status! No longer will I have to turn in off the street and decide if I should hope for one of the dozen spots in the small front lot just steps from the door. No need anymore to gauge the weather to determine if I should choose between the two options outside the building or wind around underneath to the covered parking -- where my black car is dry and cool, protected from the harsh summer sunshine.

Of course, I've been parking downstairs underneath the cover of A Level for more than a year now. One half of the level, you see, is free-for-all parking. You get a spot, it's yours. But now ... now I move over to the reserved side. From this day forward, I don't have to hope for a spot, I don't have to guess which row to turn down, I don't have to wonder how far beneath the buildling -- or how far away from the elevator and stairs -- I will be able to park.

Starting tomorrow, until the day I leave this place of employment, parking spot A-12 is mine.

So long as that maroon Jeep that was there today gets the memo.

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