Status: entry for mibba's first annual big bang.
Azalea
chilly
So a few days later, Pedro tells me I have a big meeting with some curators on Wednesday morning. I'm nervous. Have they finally realized how much I hate my internship? Am I going to get fired? (Can you even get fired from an internship?)
It turns out that they want me to stay on as a permenant tour guide. It's a real job, like with benefits and vacation time and other perks. I'm excited, but I really don't want to cause a big fuss - I'm too tired to care anymore - but Jinki tells Jenny, and Jenny tells Azalea, and they insist that we need to go celebrate. (And Azalea says she's getting tired of the weather anyway.)
After a long, careful deliberation (and by that I mean after three or four hours of Azalea and Jenny arguing where the best beaches were) we decided that we'd leave during the first weekend in March because the museum was going to be closed for renovations that week anyway.
I'm excited because maybe we'll finally be getting away from Phillip.
(As if.)
The vacation itself is fine - the beach is great, it's sunny and the waves are great. Azalea can't stop taking pictures, Jinki gets sunburn because he doesn't like sunscreen, and Jenny gets really tan. We get souvenirs and everything's going pretty okay. Azalea is having a good time and so is everyone else and I'm finally starting to feel comfortable.
And then, when I go back to work that Monday, there's an e-mail waiting for me. So I open it since I don't have anything to do today but silly paperwork and a few tours after lunch. There are pictures of Azalea and me from our trip - at the boardwalk, at the beach, at a restaurant. But the message disappears as quickly as it popped up, and I can't figure out how to get it back.
I'm afraid that for once, the chill running down my spine isn't from the draft that's right over my desk.
It turns out that they want me to stay on as a permenant tour guide. It's a real job, like with benefits and vacation time and other perks. I'm excited, but I really don't want to cause a big fuss - I'm too tired to care anymore - but Jinki tells Jenny, and Jenny tells Azalea, and they insist that we need to go celebrate. (And Azalea says she's getting tired of the weather anyway.)
After a long, careful deliberation (and by that I mean after three or four hours of Azalea and Jenny arguing where the best beaches were) we decided that we'd leave during the first weekend in March because the museum was going to be closed for renovations that week anyway.
I'm excited because maybe we'll finally be getting away from Phillip.
(As if.)
The vacation itself is fine - the beach is great, it's sunny and the waves are great. Azalea can't stop taking pictures, Jinki gets sunburn because he doesn't like sunscreen, and Jenny gets really tan. We get souvenirs and everything's going pretty okay. Azalea is having a good time and so is everyone else and I'm finally starting to feel comfortable.
And then, when I go back to work that Monday, there's an e-mail waiting for me. So I open it since I don't have anything to do today but silly paperwork and a few tours after lunch. There are pictures of Azalea and me from our trip - at the boardwalk, at the beach, at a restaurant. But the message disappears as quickly as it popped up, and I can't figure out how to get it back.
I'm afraid that for once, the chill running down my spine isn't from the draft that's right over my desk.