VIP Clones

Remind me again why I work in an office? As I sit here in my "business casual" attire (borderline on the "business" part), with my shoes off under my desk, I am wondering again why I can't make a decent living doing something I love. I clearly don't belong here, yet I am grateful for a job that allows my husband to stay at home with our boys (really, I am).

I am watching the VIP guests mill around today, reappearing from out of the boardroom every hour or so. Every single one of these guys has a light blue button down shirt (no tie), dark pants, a cell phone stuck to his ear and looks to be about 20 years old. I kid you not. It’s almost like being invaded by aliens. Aliens who ask me at least 5 times a day where the men's room is. I think I'll draw a map and make copies to keep on my desk, like they give you when you go to the zoo or an amusement park.