Real talk chaos of my life.

I work in an industry where appearance is everything. No, but really. I am intensely interested in the structure of a building, in the arrangement of your windows, in the amount of glare I can prevent by specifying appropriate window treatments, and how much more productive you will be through these decisions – but really. We sell it on appearance. There is a logic behind it, there is a science of Interior Design, but we sell it with our delightful swatchbooks, our silky locks, our manicures and the promise that your space will outshine your neighbor’s space.

Enter Megan Rose.

Let’s talk about my morning commute the other day.

I was eating breakfast in the car (at least I was eating breakfast!). At which point my peanut butter dripped off of my pita bread, onto my steering wheel and right across my lap. Then I reached over for my cup of juice, which WAS in a travel mug. Albeit a travel mug with the lid open. Thus, the juice landed on the floor. Blooming flip.

Once I arrived at the office, my coworker came to return a cardigan and water bottle I had left in her car the previous day. “I’m sorry it’s wet, but your bottle spilled.” Of course it did.

This all took place before 8:15 am, which is when I went to find someone to fix my chair. My chair – you know, the one that had broken on my first day on the job. That one.

Good morning, world, I’m here to stay.

All of this to say, I’m in an industry that makes it’s money on appearance, selling a dream. Most of my mornings feel a bit more like an 80s sitcom. Currently, I’m biding my time until my colleagues notice and hold to the belief that I have endeared myself enough to them, with my shiny hair and efficient work ethic, that they’ll keep me around. If not….hold that thought. My earring just fell out of my ear and I need to move my desk to find it.

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