Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Apparently a degree in the field doesn't count for much

Completely forgot to make mention of the (notoriously bad) skinny envelope I recieved from the National Gallery of Art. Apparently I am not qualified to be an exhibition aid (read: coat check girl and pointer outer of the bathrooms) because I do not have the appropriate qualifications. They have hired somebody "more appropriate for the job.

Yes, it was a form letter, and yes, it probably means I didn't hit a bullet point on their stupid checklist, but it's still vastly irritating. And I'll never know what I needed to fix in order to get the job. So I'm stuck at Petsmart for the forseable future, scrubbing dogs instead of hanging out in the National Gallery amid cool marble and cooler artwork and, coolest of all, a better paycheck for doing a job more related to my training.

Not that I'm bitter. Oooohhhh, no. Not bitter at all. Just the fact that I WORK IN A FUCKING MUSEUM but am somehow unqualified to assist visitors in another museum doesn't tick me off at all. Sorry, was that my teeth grinding together? I'll try to stop that.

I think I'm going to go take a long shower and go to bed. No point in being all worn out when I have to go cleanse corgies and scrub scotties tomorrow, bright and early!

8:22 p.m. - 2003-02-28

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