My days have been filled with a peculiar thrill. That of interviewing others for the opportunity to toil alongside myself and my comrades in the workhouse.

I fucking love the job interview. It does wonders for my sad, sorry self-esteem. It is ego ointment, because, of course, at some weird cosmic moment, I got the job.

Today’s specific thrill involved an answer I myself would never mouth, never conceive, never been able to utter in a million years and a thousand words of utterances. We asked a question, and the answer was a simple “JOY.”

Grok it. A chick in a job interview speculates on “joy.”

Um, like, did we mention it’s a job?

Moreover, I know it’s fucking California, but cowboy up for fuck’s sake. It’s never, ever gonna be all unicorns and rainbows and bubbles. Someone has to file the paper and make the calls.

Shit, I’m all bitter, Cali style. And, for that, I feel joy.