Seeing as how we just met, I don’t think y’all know what my job is while I’m in school.
This past summer, I made sandwiches at a lovely chain that is not Subway. Making sandwiches is not a glamorous job. It involves lunch meat, which is sliced by hand on a very dangerous meat slicer. It also entails making some sandwiches on a grill, which, like the rest of the restaurant, needs to be cleaned. (Call in Mike Rowe because that is one dirty job.) Let’s not mention how my shifts were rarely shorter than five hours, and they involved lots of making sandwiches, lots of cleaning, dealing with people, and standing throughout the majority of the evening. People can be rude, and I am little and weak. However, I got paid at least seven dollars an hour and had whatever days off I needed. I had the additional bonuses of one free sandwich per shift (the majority of which went to my parents’ house for consumption by someone other than me) and a sweet fifty percent employee discount whenever I wasn’t working, not to mention all the Pepsi products from the fountain that I could consume during a shift and the occasional cookie or bag of chips or slice of bacon. For the record, though, I almost always drank water, and that is not merely because I prefer Coke. This job paid for my car and is also the reason I don’t eat sandwiches.
My job during the school year is drastically different. Essentially, I am a personal assistant to my adviser, who does not happen to be anything remotely close to conventional or sane. She is darn near obsessed with her sorority and was so excited about me joining mine that she literally jumped up and down and screamed in her office. Y’all, this is not normal behavior for a woman in her fifties. Besides working with such a character, I am often asked to do things like make copies, grade tests, record things in a grade book (She’s old school.), clean her office, and decorate for each seasonal and/or holiday change. And for all this and more, I get paid minimum wage. That’s right: $5.15 per hour. Incredibly glamorous, no?
The thing is, I’d almost rather make sandwiches than be overexposed to my adviser. I elected to go to a small school, and I chose her to be my adviser, but a girl needs space. It’s unnatural for someone to be so involved in my life. She’s very well-intentioned, and part of me thinks I should suck it up and use the connection to my advantage (Hello, letter of recommendation!), but not even all the good intentions and amiability will keep me from going crazy for the rest of the semester.
On the bright side, she is fodder for some excellent stories, so y’all can most assuredly look forward to hearing those.
I’m off to finish packing and then to bed. I’m driving back home to school tomorrow — a whopping six to seven hour drive — so wish me luck!
