Hello benefits.

Miami is over. As frustrating as working with that partner was, I can't say I wasn't a little sad to go at the end of the two weeks. They ended up offering me a job –– and a lot more money than I expected. But in the end, I was also offered a job in San Francisco.

Holy shemole...deuling job offers.

My original plan was to get the job in San Francisco and have bidding wars between some other agencies to see who could give me the most money. But in the end, I'm all talk and accepted the SF offer. Orientation was today. Hello benefits, thanks for coming.

Update.

Ok, so it's really a strike. An immigration strike. On CNN. I am the last to know. But I doubt any of my coworkers actually participated in this march.

Last to know.

You know how there are some mornings when you just don't want to get up? Much less put the energy into getting ready to go to work? 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes.

Well I get up and drive my groggy ass to work, hit the elevator button and it won't light up. Everyone else's elevator button lights up. How embarassing. I try again and no lighty as the five other people in the elevator look on. So I look through my messenger bag pretending to have forgotten something in the car.

Damn, forgot it.

I get off and try another – this time empty – elevator and my button still doesn't work. Bitches.

I ask the security guard and he tells me my company is on strike. My floor is closed and I can't go up.

Whaaaaaaaaaa?

I missed that memo. I call the few numbers I have with me and no answer.

Oh well, I tried. Time for the mall and a new pair of shoes. I have a hunch the closed office has more to do with today being International Workers' Day and less with a strike. Nice going white security guard. You don't know!

Apparently, neither did I.