Working nine to five, but not really.

Oh dear. Remember that job interview I told you about? Well… I got it. I’ve got a job. I am officially going to work. Not at this moment, but in general, you know. It’s sort of, or it is a kiosk. We make our own waffles and our own mashed potatoes (which we serve with hot dogs, sometimes). It’s called “Go’ Bua”, which roughly translates to “The Good Booth”, probably. It’s hard to translate, but I hope you get the picture. It’s a little booth, or “hut”, with good things, basically.

My first day was unnerving at first, and then, just like everything else, it stopped when I got there. They were all so kind and helpful, and I felt so comfortable there.

At the moment it’s only a part time job with some substitute work, but if I do well I might get a full time job, on weekends and with locking liability, and I’ll therefore get a lot more pay, obviously.
I’m really looking forward to my next shift, this Friday and I am just so happy that I finally got something right. It feels so good and yet so strange to think that I’ll go to work. I never went to work.

On a very related note, my friend and I’ve got a really great fashion sense.

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