Look, I know there might be some people who find this boring but I find it unsettling to have an unfinished series hanging out there. Bear with me. It's almost over. And I'd like you to know that, well, I'd read your job history if you wrote it.
So in Part deux I had just quit my job at the hospital. This marks my crossing over to easy street. No more hairnets and no more food. I got a cushy job working as a receptionist in an advisement center at BYU. I answered phones and set up appointments for the counselors who basically lived like rock stars. Here I learned everything about BYU's G.E. requirements, including that "Disease and the Public Health" counts as microbiology. (I got a b+. Thank you hypochondria, you finally paid off for me.) Students were desperate to talk to the counselors about graduation. But they had to wait at least a month for an appointment with "Rita," the top counselor. She would never speak to students on the phone unless they set up special "phone appointments." Of course I was always taking calls and transferring them back to her instead of putting them on hold and all sorts of crazy accidental madcap fun. She didn't think it was fun. In fact, when a pushy student got past me at the front desk and back to Rita's office without an appointment she later described me as having been "raped" by the student who "took advantage" of me to get to her. Hey, she said it--not me. And I was just as uncomfortable with her saying it then as you are reading it now. Let's move on.
After the advisement center I got another really cushy job as a TA for a philosophy professor. I really can't complain about this job. No--I mean I really can't complain about this job. That professor is my father in law so, you know. Then I became a writing instructor when I went to graduate school which was also a pretty good job. I didn't know what I was doing but it's the thought that counts.
After graduate school I got my first "real" job as a technical writer at Waterford Institute. I had benefits and even carried a sort of brief case on the first day. It didn't take long for me to ditch the brief case, as I had very little real work to do. This made my job quite challenging. Do you know how hard it is to look busy for 40 hours a week? Believe me, it's not as easy as you might think--especially when your back and your computer screen face the on-coming traffic of the office. I did get pretty fast at toggling back and forth between my Doom screen and my so-called "specs." Heh heh heh. Specs. Ahh, me. Those were the days.
Working with my grad school buddies, Frank and Neil, was probably the best part about my job at Waterford. We would begin our day with a discussion of where to eat lunch later. After that was settled, we would launch into Apple Beer discussions led by Frank. After lunch we might "work"independently for a few hours on our own various pursuits such as our theses, Frank's dream of Apple Beer infiltration, or Doom. And then we might end the day with a bull session of sorts because sometimes a certain synergy happens which is priceless. Of course, Frank went home at 3pm so we had to fit in all the Apple Beer discussions before he left which required high-level time management skills. To be sure, there are many specific Australian people and incidents I could mention, but to do so would be indiscreet. And I am nothing if not discreet. There was one woman there (not Australian, incidentally) who had a lumbar support pillow and when we moved our office she packed the pillow by itself in a box and labeled it. (Stuff like that).
After Waterford I got my Master's Degree and became full-fledged adjunct faculty at BYU. No, there aren't any benefits but they do give you an "A" parking sticker and to someone who has been fined for "ticket fraud" this alone was worth the 3 years it took me to write my thesis. I continue to teach writing at BYU when I feel like it and, for the most part I really like it. Regarding my competence: Let's just say that on my first day I walked headlong into a full-length glass wall and that has pretty much set the tone for my "teaching style." The big question is, will I teach next fall? Stay tuned.
In case you were wondering, I'm not one of those people who refers to motherhood as a "job" because, let's be honest--it's not. I mean, you don't get paid. I suppose you could conceive of it as getting paid if you have a husband who works and supports you but that feels a little prostitutish and my high school assistant principal already made me feel prostitutish enough with his ZZ Top Girl comment. Even though I say I "don't work," I assume that most of the people I talk to understand that I stay busy taking care of kids [and blogging] and, quite frankly, I prefer any misconceptions of me living in leisure to the reality of me in knit pants and the shirt I wore yesterday darting around to and fro swiping at various surfaces with a sour, stinking rag. Which brings me right up to today--thus concluding my job history.