I did it. I finally broke down and did it. And it scares me.



I went and got a real job.



For the past 2 ½ years at school I've been working fake jobs. Six hours a week putting books on a shelf at the library, 4 hours a week sitting at the desk at the entrance to the dorm. But this semester, faced with the prospect of only working 2 hours a week, I came to a scary conclusion-not that I couldn't afford food, or books, or medicine. Nothing so trivial as that.



I can't afford alcohol on two hours a week.



The room went started spinning and then went black, as this thought went running through my head. My friends acted quickly and revived me with a shot of whiskey, before any permanent damage was done. Immediately, I sprung into action. Surely there must be jobs out there that require me to do nothing for cash, aren't there? I looked everywhere-the desk had no more hours, whoring had its downside, and apparently its too late to get in on that president thing. So I was forced to consider the impossible. Actually working.



Ladies and Gentlemen, you are looking at the financial office's new bitch. That's right. So that I may spend my weekends being piss drunk, I now file, sort, and type. At nine o'clock in the morning. No more thirsty Thursdays, no Tuesday cocktail hour. I am now the office wench.



And so another semester begins.



Second semester becomes New Years Eve part 2. I was sitting around with all my friends at the beginning and we're all talking about how we were going to stay caught up with our work. Everyone starts making cute little excuses like "oh, I'll stay caught up because I need to for that big paper at the end of the semester" or "I have a job, so I need to keep up with my work." You do it. Your friends do it. Hell, I even made a schedule of every paper I have due this semester. But let's face it. The only thing I've used that schedule for is to factor in how many days I can spend drinking before I have to sit down at midnight the night before to write the paper. With a beer.



I hate the first couple of weeks of second semester because I feel like I'm a freshman again. Wandering around campus with my schedule in hand, trying to figure out what that glowing orb in the sky is because I haven't had a morning class since last year. It's like I forgot how to function in the month that I was home. And no matter how hard I try, there's always that one class that I can't find. You know the one. It's down some corridor that you've never heard of, in a building you didn't know existed. I feel like an ass because I end up having to ask some sophomore who looks at me like I have three heads. Listen fucker, I helped your sorry ass find your class when you were a freshman. Just tell me where it is and where I can get some coffee.



Since I now have to work in the morning, I've taken to eating a snack or lunch during my classes or in between them. Now, obviously, I have no problem with eating during class. In fact, I've suggested putting a buffet in for my seminar class. But there's always that one person who eats the loudest, most annoying food during a lecture class. When no one else is eating. "The war was started when munch munch munch munch and then the rebels attacked munch munch munch" That's it! I'll confess! Anything to stop the damn munching!



Freshman year I used to stay up until 2 am the night before an 8:30am class. Now I have to be at work at 10, and I'm done by midnight. My friends keep asking me to go do things with them at 11:30 and I'm like, "no man, I can't. I'm sorry; I gotta work in the morning. If I don't get that full 9 hours, I'm useless."



Damn, I've become a loser.



But really man, I better get going. It's getting pretty late. And I gotta work in the morning.