I got “the call” three weeks ago for a job opportunity I had applied for (out of boredom and out of curiosity). This job made me: (1) lie to my work so I could leave the office to attend interviews, (2) use up expensive gas to make it to all three interviews, and (3) realize how much I needed a change in my life. And like they say, be careful what you wish for because you might just get it. Even if you were just playing around.

I got it. I received “the call,” accepted the job offer, left the job I had kept for nine years, said bye to my co-slackers, packed my things, and quit 20 minutes early since it was my last day and I felt I had no other purpose. I teared on my way home. Okay, I had a full-blown cry; I was sad. One of my fake eyelashes even came off. Those things took forever to put on, and all those YouTube sessions didn’t cut it for me. I don’t know how those chicks do it, but in a way they amaze me and they make me sad--for me and for them. By the way, it was Halloween. I do not wear fake lashes on an everyday basis.

So now I work for an organization composed primarily of filthy rich Asians. And as you will know in a second, I am not a filthy rich Asian and I suspect I never will be. I don’t have the drive to make millions and I don’t know what to do with a million. I don’t even know why I’m working for money. I should be in a jungle eating natural things and wearing a leaf. Even as I am saying this I feel like a hypocrite. My closet looks like a hybrid baby of Macy’s, Guess, Forever 21, and discount shops. Depending where you’re standing in my closet, that spot determines my economical state at the time. What’s funny is, as poor as I am and was, I still manage to keep a full closet. I’ll just donate them to Goodwill when I’m done with them, and I’m sure my thrifty parents will shop the Goodwill, buy them out of love for their daughter, and bring them right back to me. Someone’s trash is another person’s treasure, and since this treasure is coming back to me, I am thinking it was trash to begin with.

So a lot of people are asking me about the new job--the usual: How much are you getting paid?

Here’s an answer: IT’S NUNNAYABIZZ. And is that the only important thing to people? What about job satisfaction? I would like to earn money doing something I enjoy. If you paid me big bucks to be a robot at a factory, I would not do it--not that it’s a problem, but it’s just not my style. For full-time hourly employees, we spend just under 2000 hours of our lives in a single year earning income. That’s too many hours holding a grumpy, wrinkled forehead. And not too mention too tiresome! By the way, if you are still calculating the number of hours, please note that I did not cut out the holidays and fake sick days; I only counted legitimate I-really-did-work days.

This entire process got me thinking of the things we cherish the most. Is it the fun? The challenges? The friendship? It seems the people who drive for money are the ones who struggle the most--some in a healthy, challenging way and others in a desperate way. I like having money but I’m fine without it. I see it as more of a need, and I am now needing it to pay off my past wants. Yes, once the life of a young college student who wanted everything but college units. This new job is a challenge for me and has made me question multiple times whether I am able to stay on board and whether I can meet certain expectations. I deserve this sort of challenge because I am a smart person, and I know that if I fail I am just preparing for the next step. You learn as you screw up, and I am trying to come into terms with this. Next time when I’m bored, I’ll read a book or write one, but I’ll save the job applications for a time when I really need them.