One year and one week and one day ago, I was unemployed and seriously wondering how I was going to continue to pay my rent, buy groceries, and basically, well, live. I was filling out the necessary paperwork to postponing the onset of my massive student loan payments on the basis of abject poverty. I was pouring over job posting after job posting, all of which I was either way over- or way underqualified for. Then, one year and one week ago, I had a meeting. Then, one year and three days ago, I was offered a job. A job with a description that was pretty much written for me. At a cool place, doing very cool work. A job with a paycheque. And benefits. And pretty business cards. And a swanky office with a view of the mountains. A big girl job.
Happy workiversary to me.