I'm at it again

So one thing that has been true in McPolack history is that I veer wildly from job to job. I've worked for a well-known publication as an editor and then ended up sandwiched in between a guy who likes online role-playing games and knives, and a woman who welcomed me to my "Dirty Thirties" (her term) by telling me that the fact that I was going to now want sex all the time would be met with the cruel irony of an ever-ripening smell emanating from my lady bits.

From there I catapulted to the upper echelons of the publishing world, writing for a company closely associated with a fancy, fancy school. Then I sold sweaters at the J's Crew. Then it was off to the large and fancy consulting firm.

And now in true McPolack style I have rubberbanded back to CrazyTown. I am currently under the employ of a firm that does -- well, I don't want to say what they do because I don't want to get into trouble. But suffice it to say: The pay sucks (well, it's in line with the work being done, which isn't rocket science) and I am yet again surrounded by the Very, Very Weird.

Let's take for example the gentleman who sits to my right. He stood up and stretched the other day and then headed out the door for a break. In his pith helmet. Uh-huh. This is why I don't need to write fiction, people. Another of my office mates is a goth-looking fifty-something who stores her shoes in the standalone closet and then walks around barefoot.

I do not expect the rubber band to flip me back to fancytown anytime soon. But this is a good thing. I want to write and to find jobs that support me in my writing by offering flexible hours, enough money to pay the bills, and some scope for the imagination. This job has two out of three.

I'm on my way!