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Aug. 7th, 2013 09:07 amI accidentally applied to be a Sous Chef at a prestigious east coast university this morning.
Well, it's not my fault, I clicked "apply" under "research associate" and somehow it rerouted me from Research Associate to Sous Chef. Hey, if they call me for an interview I won't say no. I may not have my cordon bleu but if they see "six years administrative experience" and think "that's the chef for me!" who am I to say no?
Perhaps it is a sign. Except being a chef is a terrible, exhausting job and I'm not that fond of knives.
I started to read Mechanique, by Genevieve Valentine, on the train yesterday. I read twelve pages of it. And they were a very well-written twelve pages! But at the end of twelve pages I said to myself, you know what? You already have clinical depression, Sam. You don't need to read the unhappiest book in the universe.
But it's about a steampunk circus so you know, if total abject misery doesn't bug you too much, give it a try!
Well, it's not my fault, I clicked "apply" under "research associate" and somehow it rerouted me from Research Associate to Sous Chef. Hey, if they call me for an interview I won't say no. I may not have my cordon bleu but if they see "six years administrative experience" and think "that's the chef for me!" who am I to say no?
Perhaps it is a sign. Except being a chef is a terrible, exhausting job and I'm not that fond of knives.
I started to read Mechanique, by Genevieve Valentine, on the train yesterday. I read twelve pages of it. And they were a very well-written twelve pages! But at the end of twelve pages I said to myself, you know what? You already have clinical depression, Sam. You don't need to read the unhappiest book in the universe.
But it's about a steampunk circus so you know, if total abject misery doesn't bug you too much, give it a try!
