Two years later?
I had my own office. I was a manager. Manager of half of the customer service representatives. I got a pay increase, health insurance, dental insurance, vision insurance, paid vacations, the whole working man?s gig. I had more money that I ever thought I?d have in my savings account. Shit, I had a savings account! I had enough money to buy a new car, a new TV, I got a cell phone, a good one, the kind that had the game Snake on it, a new sofa, and a new computer. Not that crappy thing Xavier gave to me years back, but one that was really fast, held a lot more memory, and I was able to afford DSL, a new thing to connect to and surf the internet faster.
I wore suits to work. Nice shoes, a crisp tie, pressed slacks, a form fitting blazer, and my hair was clean cut. Even when I got home from work, I didn?t immediately get into my pajamas like I used to. I?d loosen my tie, take off my jacket, and cook myself a good steak, some steamed vegetables, and drink a glass of wine. I gained twenty pounds.
I hung out with my coworkers a lot. We?d go to bars or restaurants after work, eat things that were more expensive that fast food hamburgers and sodas. We?d talk about the new company program implemented the week before, the new girl in accounting, or planned a weekend to Vegas.
Five days a week, woke up at 6 in the morning, got to work by 7:50, went to lunch at 12:35, left work at 3:30, met up with my coworkers somewhere, eat or drink, for a couple of hours, and then got home by 8pm. Watched TV for a couple more, fell asleep, got up at 6 and did the same thing. On the weekends, I?d meet up with coworkers and drink more, eat more, talk to girls more, and then wait for Monday to come around to start it all over again.
Two years, that was my life.?I lived comfortably. I was content. It was all a blur.
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