Working

Last week was application-palooza.
I didn't hear back from anywhere until Saturday, when the cannon center was like, "Hey, we're doing on the spot hiring!"
I seriously walked in, the secretaries asked me if I could work a certain shift, and they gave me the job.

The cannon center...
It's been real. I've worked two shifts. I rock a uniform that could fit three of me inside, and the training videos were surprisingly graphic and scarred me for life (no one wants to watch a girl severely burn her face off, BYU, thanks.). I also enjoy watching all the freshman romances in blossom, while I fight the urge to yell at them, "STOP! HE'S LEAVING! YOU ARE BABIES! IT WILL SUCK!"
Oh, there was also that time I spilled a cart full of clean trays all over the floor in front of everyone.
And when a co-worker was telling me a story, but it was too loud and I couldn't really hear him, so I just sort of smiled/nodded/chuckled when he paused. And then at the end, he asked me a question which I confused as another part of the story, and I replied with another chuckle and things got awkward real fast.
So I mean, it's had it's moments.

But now all these places are asking me for interviews and offering me positions! Better places! With better hours! And better pay!

 Which is great, except that I already started working and now have to let those people down, and go through the hassle of filing two-weeks notice, and decide where to accept.

Dear jobs on campus, if you wanted me to interview,

...or Saturday, actually.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm taking a job at the OIT, in which case this image is appropriate:

Josh used to think he could get away with anything by saying that, so I'm claiming that right for myself.

Disclaimer: I really am grateful to have options, but oh the complications.