I'm surprised you can't remember me

I'm working this week at THE TOWER. I can't remember the real name of the building, but I can see the whole valley because we are working on the last floor before the top, and it is breathtaking. If I got to work on this floor for good...I would never leave Utah. You can see beyond the petty. You can see beyond the traffic. There isn't a view of any religious buildings, only architecture and trees, and glittering state street that fades gradually into the distance. It feels like it could be in the rest of America.

I love to rub shoulders with The Suits. Ride elevators with people who just nod. They don't try to make small talk and I love the silence. The food court is full of fancy people in perfect clothes; almost impossible to picture them in a backyard barbecue holding a beer and flipping burgers. I let my eyes flutter shut and try not to ask them who's fitted shirt they are wearing, or more importantly to me, who's scent they are wearing.

It might sound materialistic. It might sound outrageous. But I wake up every morning and I feel so pampered to become part of the people in the world who work
NINE
TO
FIVE.
Spoiled. Grateful.

And it makes me want to be a hot shot someday.