Best Kisser in Town Lands Great Job

Take job. Learn, leave, then love the next.

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful; there’s really no cause-effect relationship there.

Instead, hate me because I love my work and really, can’t shut up about it.

Haven’t even had time to blog: it’s that good. I’d rather be working.

Seriously. How screwed up is that?

I bill 20-25 hours a week, but am OBSESSED and work, dream, and brain dump about this crazy cool opportunity to anyone who will listen, which is mostly just my rather attractive husband.

In reality: I work for a small, local-yocal car dealer selling cars I grew up laughing at.

In reality: I work for an innovative woman successfully breaking stereotypes in man’s industry; committed to changing the image of car buying from sleazy to transparent; a believer of inbound marketing, relying on me to make her on-line presence more personal, building relationships with customers, community members, and colleagues via social media and community outreach. Giving back to the community she serves is high priority: “because that is really the most important thing we can do.”

I thought it was a shell game. But it’s not.

She’s for real.

Car seats. Pediatric cancer research. Distracted driving. Education. Arts. Teen driving laws. Mentoring. Seriously environmentally green.

She’s exhausting.

And damnit, she’s nice too. I used to fucking hate women like her, before they started paying me to work for them and valuing my opinion.

I can do this job. I want to do this job.

The boss is great: smart, brave, ethical, flexible, and a mom of little kids. So she gets it. As much as any mom of little kids gets a mom of teenagers. She definitely thinks I’m a freak, but that’s okay. I’m her not-so-distant future and she’ll apologize later. They all do.

This job has been a long time coming. And in fact, I still haven’t officially quit the other teeny tiny gigs, because I’m still afraid this will all be over with a single tweet of 140 characters:

@returntoworkmom: Skills obsolete, u got a foul mouth & twitter not rite for biz. Lose nose-ring. Go back 2 school. W8d 2 long to get back in the ring. Fight over. Nice try.

So far, no offer.

I’ve been at this three months now, and I feel like I’m in junior high celebrating each anniversary: 2 weeks! 4 weeks! A month and a half! Let’s make out! 3 months already! It’s love!

Face it: in this job market, the honeymoon period ended when that first paycheck cleared. Jobs are few and far between, and while I’m still hesitant, I’m breathing easier every day.