Anywhere but south Florida
Some of you may know that I occastionally write sparkling prose for a boating magazine about the finest places for wealthy retirees to berth their yachts on a weekend. What might be news is that the editor offered me a staff position right after I graduated college. At that point, my enormous dreams filled the swimming pool in my parents' backyard, so clearly, I couldn't possibly accept. Okay, the real reason I didn't accept is because I was scared, wanted a break, I'd JUST moved all my shit four hours to Orlando, I wanted to hang out with my borther before he went to WA state or New England for college this fall, AND the job is in that 7th circle of HELL some may know as Fort Lauderdale. Come on, I like the elderly as much as the next people, and generally find jews much less terrifying than fundamentalist christians, but please, Lord, anywhere but South Florida.
Seven months later, I'm looking at an email from the same editor offering me a job AGAIN. That's mad flattering since I'm nobody and have ZERO experiece being on the staff of a periodical, especially a commercial one. I'm meeting the guy in Miami (gag) this weekend to discuss the position, though my dad says that he doubts they'd pay me enough to live in Ft. Lauderdale. I'm gonna hear what the man has to say. If they offer me 60 grand, I'll call you when I'm on the turnpike heading south.
Seven months later, I'm looking at an email from the same editor offering me a job AGAIN. That's mad flattering since I'm nobody and have ZERO experiece being on the staff of a periodical, especially a commercial one. I'm meeting the guy in Miami (gag) this weekend to discuss the position, though my dad says that he doubts they'd pay me enough to live in Ft. Lauderdale. I'm gonna hear what the man has to say. If they offer me 60 grand, I'll call you when I'm on the turnpike heading south.