On Wednesday I received a call about my *perfect* job. Like if there were a job in the universe made for me this was it. The kind of job you’d take a paycut for because you know you’d be so happy doing it. Or at least I would, since in my old age I’ve learned that money means very little when you’re selling your soul for it.
So I was giddy. Jumping up and down in my head.
Until she hit me with the bombshell: The job is in IOWA. Ummm…hold up. Iowa? Aw fuck no! No way I’m living in Iowa. Who would ever *choose* to live in frickin Iowa?!
If I’d even taken 4 seconds from my day to consider Iowa (I mean – c’mon! This IS my perfect job, remember), that consideration ended when we had this conversation:
[phone rings and I notice it’s HR Chick I’ve been playing phone tag with]
Barista: Hi Rachel! I’m picking up my lunch at Panera – can I call you back in 5 minutes when I get to my car?
HR Chick: Sure, Barista! I look forward to finally speaking to you.
[call back once I’ve left Panera]
HR Chick: I’m so jealous that you were at Panera! All we have here in Fairfield, Iowa is Burger King and McDonald’s.
Barista: Oh, dear. That sounds utterly horrible to me. I could never live there.
Ok, so maybe I wasn’t THAT harsh (we had a very nice conversation – I wasn’t offensive), but you get the gist. Barista will not be moving to Iowa. Ever.
The fact that the nearest Starbucks is 50.9 miles away should give you a bit of a clue of how adamant I am about this fact. Imagine the gas I’d waste driving there and back twice a day!
Eek, LOL, that is ridiculous. You’d be out in the middle of nowhere and (sometimes) the grass isn’t greener ya know?
True. But the grass here is dead.
A change of scenery may be a good thing *shrug*