My alarm clock shrieked, jolting me awake at 6:21 a.m. today. No one likes to start their day like this.
It was still dark outside as I slapped the “snooze” button—eight more minutes of rest. With the covers pulled up to my eyelids, and the air raid-like noises of my alarm clock silenced, visions of calling in sick suddenly danced through my head.

“Stay home! You can write your column and get to bed on time. Nobody will miss you.”
Doing the right thing, I begrudgingly kicked back the sheets and got out of bed.
It was a good thing I did.
The day started like all the rest…
Just like every other morning, I was running late. Long, sleepy showers will do this to a person. After a quick check of the weather on the morning news, I hightailed it to light rail, barely catching the train.
Next stop—work.
With just enough time to grab a coffee (caffeine is a must!), I strolled into my cubicle at 8 a.m. Tossing my bag aside and slumping into my chair; I saddled up to the computer and logged in.
While sipping my mocha and sifting through e-mail, one particular message jumped out from the rest. Sandwiched between the latest SEIU rant and a notice for the upcoming “rummage sale,” sat an e-mail from Elaine Benes [ * ]—a supervisor on the third floor—with “PLEASE CALL ME” written in the subject line.
For most, this message may have caused bouts of paranoia and a fair amount of indigestion. For me, however, I felt nothing but excitement.
Nearly two weeks ago I interviewed for a position in Benes’ unit. I was the top-ranking candidate for the position, and I killed the interview. They were smiling and writing down everything I had to say.
There was only one problem: I was interviewing for a full-time position, and I’m working part-time until I graduate in December.
A little nervous at this point, I decided to e-mail Benes back instead of calling. After what seemed like an eternity, she replied, stating she wanted to meet.
This was it; do or die time. It was out of my hands at this point. I was confident about my interview, but was it enough to persuade them to work around my schedule?
I walked into the conference room, sitting down in a chair near the round table, and awaited the “judgment.”
“We would like to offer you the position of…”
I didn’t have to hear the rest.
Finally, after years of dealing with customer complaints, taking long vacations and extended weekends, my hard work had been recognized. It was quite a feeling, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
Unfortunately, the rest of the day had nowhere to go but down. My promotion is official, but I won’t switch to the new unit for at least a week or two.
The daily grind continues.
Tomorrow…

I might have taken another step up the “corporate ladder,” but I’m still the same person. Jake Corbin doesn’t change that easy.
Tomorrow, same as workdays past, my alarm clock will ring (and scare the bejesus out of me) at 6:21 a.m. It will still be dark out, and I still won’t want to get up.
But knowing I’m going to have that extra cash flowing in, maybe I’ll stop thinking about calling in sick.
Nah! Who am I kidding?
[ * ] My new supervisor’s name has been changed, because I didn’t get permission to include it in this particular piece. I have to protect my new job!