Today was another fantastic day at the office. It's a long day of answering phones and organizing scripts, but I like it. It's fun. I still mess up a lot. Picking up the wrong calls. Cutting in on conference calls. Asking for callers names and immediately forgetting them. Telling an exec that "a someone sa-somthing-majam from somebody's office?" is one line one. When I really mean line two. And it's actually his mother.

Basically, work shouldn't be fun. But it is. And I think it's because I am not getting paid. Because I don't get a check, all things I do above the bare minimum--and really, this means all things I do--are somehow above and beyond the call of duty, thus giving me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. If I was getting paid, all the stuff I do now "voluntarily" would be requisite, and then where would I be? Getting paid, certainly. But fulfilled? Prob not. I also probably wouldn't be doing half the things I am doing now voluntarily, but that is only speculation.

I shall ponder this. And continue being unemployed. And living off of my credit card.