On Landing the Job of My Dreams

This post first appeared two years ago on my employer’s blog. It was an introduction of sorts, written about my experience as a soon to be college grad who just landed a job as a writer/editor at a startup.

Graduation was approaching and, as I agonized over my future, I realized that life was no longer easy. Not that it ever had been easy, not for this girl. I made sure it wasn’t. With a double major in philosophy and English literature and a minor in psychology I was constantly reading, writing, and attempting not to fall asleep in class. In the odd off hours (about 40 of them per week) I slaved away as a waitress and bartender, praying incessantly that a rich old man, alienated from family and soon to die, would sit in my section and, after having (platonically) fallen in love with my charm, would deem me worthy of inheriting his entire estate.

Between spilling drinks, busing tables, and refilling innumerable glasses of sweet tea, I daydreamed about my fictitious benefactor. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a grim fantasy for 50% of those involved, but the restaurant was located across the street from a hospital, so I had plenty of guests with potential.

Unfortunately, after two and a half years of receiving no more than 20% in tips at best, I realized that my knight in shining hospital gown was never going to arrive. I was forced into the reality that I was soon to be a twenty-something graduate. Furthermore, I was soon to be an unemployed twenty-something graduate, as I was convinced that one more week in that restaurant would be the end of me.

My father would ask, “Ashley, what are you looking for? What is your dream job?”

To which I would reply, “I want to read and write and edit.” Secretly, it was my dream to sit at home, do my work, and not have to interact with the outside world. I didn’t want to encounter any more grumpy restaurant-goers (you know, the “I asked for extra lemon! Does this look like extra to you?!” type) and I was convinced that the world was full of them.

After several talks with my aunt (whose book was edited by my now boss) I received a phone call from Amanda. Basically, the call went as follows:

Amanda: “Ashley?”
Ashley: “This is she.”
Amanda: “Hi! I’m here to give you your dream job!”
Ashley: “Really?”
Amanda: “Yep! Just write me five SEO articles about water filtration systems and send me your resume.”
Ashley: “Ok…”

Confused, and feeling a bit in over my head, I learned what SEO articles are (great thing to know, by the way) and I got the job, despite my admittedly horrific resume.

So here I am, approximately six months later, living with my grandmother (long story involving an ex, Miami, and my grandmother’s FROG) in Columbia, South Carolina. Working with Amanda is by far one of the most monumental experiences I have had, and I hope to continue learning from the Grammar Chick herself.

Two years after writing this article, I am happy to say that I am still excited about the work that I do. And, for the record, I have moved out of my grandmother’s house and to Charlotte, which I love even more than I hated Columbia.

In Honor of Halloween…

…I give you a story I wrote when I was about ten years old. For the full effect, I’m leaving all of my elementary school grammatical and spelling choices intact. Without further ado, here is the festive The Haunted Dog House.

One day thirteen year old Eric Spencer finished a dog house he was making for his dog, Scruffy. Scruffy loved the dog house. It was his favorite so far. Eric had made him five other dog houses. The moment Scruffy saw the dog house, he went in.

The dog house was fully air conditioned with three rooms in it.There was a bedroom a living room and a kitchen in the dog house.

In the bedroom there was a dog bed and a closet. besid the closet there was a window. And the window had white curtains.

The living room had a TV a big arm cair in it. Beside the chair there was a couch. In front of the chair and the couch a TV was sitting on a small table. On top of the TV there was a VCR. Scruffy liked that room the best.

In the kitchen there was a little table. There was a vase full of flowers on the table Eric had put there for Scruffy. Around the table there were 4 little chairs. It took Scruffy a long time to figure out how to open the refridgerator. The frezer was to high for Scruffy to reach. Scruffy was very impresed by the cupboads. Scruffy was always playing on the phone. Once he even called 911 and the police came!

Time was passing and Scruffy was getting older and didn’t play around as much. Then a very sad day came. One day at about noon Eric was raking the yard. Scruffy still hadn’t came out of his dog house. Eric went inside the dog house. He looked in Scruffy’s bedroom but he wasn’t there. Then he looked in the kitchen he wasn’t there eather. He went into the living room and saw the Scruffy was dead on the couch. Eric started to cry he ran out of the dog house and told his mom what had happened. They went out to see if they could feal Scruffy’s pulse.

After that the family had a funarel for Scruffy. That night Eric couldn’t sleep. He went out to visit Scruffy’s grave. Suddenly the TV turned on in Scruffy’s dog house. Eric went to see what had turned on the TV. He went strait through the house right to the living room. Eric almost passed out at what he saw. Sitting on the couch there was Scruffy’s ghost! The ghost saw Eric and turned the TV off. “Do not be afraid” the ghost said. “I won’t hurt you. I am Scruffy’s ghost.” Eric ran out screaming “Ghost!” “Ghost!”

Once inside Eric felt safe. “What’s the matter?” Eric’s mom asked. “Scruffy’s ghost is watching TV in the dog house!” Eric answered.

Outside they could hear the TV on in the dog house. They all went in and found Scruffy! No ghost but just Scruffy.

Scruffy had a few problems but he survived. They lived happily ever after.

The end