I fully understand that money doesn't grow on trees. But that doesn't stop me from fantasizing about reaching for those ripe 20 dollar bills, sinking my teeth into juicy 100's, and raking the fallen Benjamin's into big piles for my future children to one day jump on. I dream up scenarios like these to keep my sanity while living in a world that I can barely afford. Sometimes it's necessary to step back from reality and take a step into a fantasy land composed of our deepest desires. My dreams of future wealth and security are what keep me trudging along this path called life. Knowing for certain that I will one day be successful, because I will not stand living my life any other way. 

I should have bolted when I first noticed that the most exciting topic my coworkers and I engage in is about what we have in our lunch bags. Every day, without fail, the VP of marketing will stumble out of his office with his microwaveable lunch in one hand and a paper towel in the other. He'll state that his Lean Cuisine microwaveable pizza probably won't come out looking like the picture on the box and smile. He'll then proceed to punch the numbers on the microwave and say in a sarcastic tone "see, who told you men can't cook?" I'll let out a fake chuckle and click out of Facebook, knowing that his next move involves invading my space. He'll pluck his overheated dish out of the microwave, walk to my desk, and ask me to smell it. After commenting on how good of a chef he is and declaring that I now believe that men can cook after all, I'll move on with my day. That is, until the Account Manager walks out to make his lunch about 15 minutes later. I guess there are a few perks of having a cubicle in the same location as the community kitchen. Sometimes Brian will bring different types of authentic Bostonian snacks, bragging how good of a cook his mother is. I still can't figure out if he still lives with his mother, or if he just really enjoys her cooking. I really do enjoy when my coworkers take a little lunch break because that means I'll have human interaction for at least 15 minutes of my day. Without them in the room, I sit silently, staring at the white walls and big black doors surrounding me. The lighting in this building is almost identical to the lighting in my doctors office. The flickering light bouncing off the white walls makes me dizzy, forcing myself to shut my eyes for a quick second. The one other person I work with, who is an intern as well, does not eat. He gets into the office at 8am and doesn't leave his area until 5pm. Not a single stir, not a single bathroom break, not a single bite of food. I know that he doesn't have any food stored away in his desk because he comes to work completely bare handed. It's interesting because we barely talk even though we are the same age and live in the same city.  But there is this mutual respect we have for each other. After a pointless meeting put together our overpowering CEO, we'll look at each other with a sarcastic smirk and go our separate ways. It's comforting to know, just by the look in his eyes, that he feels the same way about this company as I do. Spending 30 dollars a week on gas to commute here and being forced to wake up at the crack of dawn to fight traffic, only to work a job with no pay might be one of the most emptying feelings in the world. Knowing that I am being used to do the company's bitch work ties my stomach up in knots. If I don't get paid soon, and let me please remind you that this company told me that I would be making 1,000 dollars a month, I just might have to quit and go back to school. My only concern with getting my masters is piling up more student loans. My passion is teaching and working with kids, but whenever I state my passion for teaching, others are so quick to tell me not to go there. "There's no money in teaching," they'll say. But at this point in time, I would do anything to be surrounded by a bunch of screaming kids in an overly colorful classroom, teaching them about life. I know that money doesn't grow on trees, but when I start making money I just might have to get out a couple extra dollar bills and create my own, miniature money tree to represent everything I have gone through to get where I want to be.

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    August 2012