So I think I survived my first week of my new job. I say I think, because I'm not quite convinced that I didn't die in a terrible accident on my way there on Monday and then proceed straight to work-heaven.
I know this sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not: this is the Best. Job. Ever.
The benefits are great, the views are stunning (see figure 1, which is also my office) there's an employee gym with lockers and showers and towel service and massages(!), and a tasty cafe, and if all of that weren't enough, I am so excited about the work I'm going to be doing and everyone I've met so far is super super nice. And goodlooking. And smart.
I keep getting worried that this might be a dream or I'm being punk'd. Any minute Justin Beiber is going to jump out from behind my cubicle wall and say "gotcha! Ha, you don't actually get to work here! You work at Wendy's now!" at which point I would probably cry a little, but also nod knowingly and say, "I saw that coming, Biebs".
Now, per usual, I'm not going to directly identify where I work, but suffice it to say, it is the employment equivalent of winning the lottery or finding out you have super powers. Or a lifetime supply of chocolates and cheese. If you're familiar with LA at all you will also be able to tell where the location is from the photos.
I am so so blessed.
And a tiny bit terrified that I will need to work really, really hard in order to not screw it up. My first day I spent so much time in the morning trying to prepare, and look the part, and be perfect, and when I finally got there it was a really humbling experience to realize that the people at this great place already think I'm good enough to work there.
I'm trying hard to prove them right.