Listening to my co-worker on the phone with one of her clients, I realize that I am so sick of studying for this exam. All of us trainees are practically at the burnout stage, the time when any more information stuffed into one’s head just pours right out again, useless. This is also the stage at which time slows to a crawl. My co-worker, Chris, just wandered over to me and said, “Um, out of curiosity, has time just stopped for the past forty-five minutes?” I said yes. Of course it has. Why would a Monday ever go by quickly? Per his suggestion, however, I picked up some vitamin B12 at CVS during lunch; apparently it’s the au natural form of Adderall, a quick pick-me-up that helps you focus and stay alert. We’ll see what happens. Should I be concerned that one capsule is equal to 16,666% of the recommended daily value? Oh, well, it’s a vitamin. What harm could it do? As long as it’s not vitamin A, we’re good to go, I should think. (I heard that if you eat a polar bear’s liver you’ll die, because it’s got like 3 gajillion times more vitamin A than a human body can handle. Just a side note for the next time you’re wandering around the North Pole.)

Okay, the jist of that little rant is that I want to be certified so that I can start actually working, doing business, finding clients, and making money. That is all.

I feel as though I’ve been at work for hours, but it’s only been forty-five minutes. Shoot me. Despite going to bed before eleven(!) last night, I’m still knackered. I blame Saturday night for that. So I’m feeling kind of rough - I slept wrong on Saturday night and my neck is sore, as well - and it doesn’t help that one of the other trainees, Ranjith, went on for about five minutes about how tired I looked. Ugh. I’m going to get more coffee when I finish this. I have a can of Red Bull, but the thought of that right now makes me feel a bit ill.

My girlfriend, Meg, held her grad party on Saturday; a group of people came up from VA for the occasion, including some high school friends (D, E, and Di), and we all went bowling, which quickly turned into drunken bowling, which quickly made me realise that I can’t bowl for shit if I’ve been drinking. Anyway, it was a good laugh, and we all stumbled home at around midnight or so and kept drinking with games like ‘Never Have I Ever’ and ‘Spin the Bottle,’ reminding me of good times back in St Andrews. Of course, I was on good behaviour (no tongue!).

At around six in the morning, people started passing out or going home, and I ended up fucking things up pretty good with Meg by mentioning some things that had been on my mind as of late, which will not be mentioned here. Anyway, things were strained between us until we had a chat at about four yesterday afternoon, but it seems better now, and we ended up having a lovely evening watching The Longest Yard, which was highly amusing.

On another note, I am now officially a New Jersey resident, NJ license and plates and all that. I was amazed by the efficiency of the DMV here; they really do pack you in and ship you out as quickly as possible. It’s awesome! The last time I went to the DMV, back in Virginia when my dad was transfering his car into my name, we waited for over three hours. The time before that, it took four hours, and that was after arriving at the DMV well before it opened. Obviously these Yankees are doing it right.

In the next two weeks, I have to do the following:

• register to vote as a NJ resident
• get my car inspected
• pass my Series 7 (gah!)
• buy a dress for my mom’s wedding
• take advantage of the next two weekends (3-day and 5-day, respectively) by sleeping
• actually do something physically demanding and productive, like join Bally’s

Okay, I’m ready for my lunch break now.

During my breaks here at work (and there are a few - one cannot take multiple practice exams in a row without a little breather in between), I’m either messing about with this thing, or I’m reading random blogs. For the most part, I’ll spend a couple of seconds or so skimming one, realize the information provided is too personal for me to take an interest, and move on to the next one via the said person’s blogroll. Those types of writings can only really be appreciated by the person writing them, or the people who know that person, erm, personally. I have, however, decided that I’m a huge fan of those blogs written by people in the service industry. My top three right now are WaiterRant, The Insane Waiter, and New York Hack.

The first two are, obviously, written by waiters, one in NYC and one in the Midwest, both very capable in their own right and both amused/horrified/infuriated by the caliber of customers who enter each’s respective restaurant territory. If you’ve got a spare moment, I definitely recommend checking through some of their posts. They’re hysterical, yet poignant, and I’ve already found myself acting differently at restaurants because of them.

When I worked at The Seafood Restaurant in St Andrews, for the most part the customers were tame: little old ladies enjoying a leisurely lunch, European tourists, American golfers, and, on special occasions, students from the university. We very rarely had parties with small children (thank god), and had very few complaints, the biggest one that I can recall being that the oysters weren’t cold enough (which is ridiculous, really, because those oysters were like a party in the mouth). That’s not to say that working at the restaurant was boring; it was just pretty uneventful where customers were concerned. The kitchen, however, was kept up with sexual innuendos and bad jokes, which made up for everything, even when one mini Scotsman decided to serenade me with an Elvis song and then proclaimed himself to be “devastated and heartbroken” - and was serious about it, I found out later from a friend - when I turned him down for a date. Ah well. Working as a waitress/bartender was hard work, and tips in Britain suck, but then, we weren’t getting the $2.90 or whatever it is that waiters get in this country, but rather amassed five quid an hour, or almost ten bucks. Hey, every little bit helped when it came to funding my social life.

I’m feeling down today, and for that, I shall blame the foul, gray weather we’re having. But hey, at least we didn’t have to deal with floods “that seemed almost Biblical” like those in New England. There’s an upside to everything.

Me and Chris (one of the other trainees) had a meeting with Big Boss Man yesterday afternoon, during which he went over all the incorrect answers on our practice exams. Wait, not our practice exams. Just mine. Of course I’d given him one with crazy careless mistakes - multiple choice tests taken on a computer make it really easy for me to slip and push the wrong button - and he spent at least five minutes explaining each question. Even the simple ones. The sad thing is, I knew the answers to them, but I’m not going to dwell on it, as I got a 94% on that test anyway. After the meeting, Big Boss Man came over to me and said, “Do you have a really good memory?” I don’t. Not at all. I blame the alcohol consumption and other bad habits of St Andrews days on my crappy memory. So I told him that I didn’t, and he grinned slightly. “Guess you’re just a good test-taker, then, huh?”

It’s been five years since I’ve taken a multiple-choice exam. I’d say I was plenty out of practice. Let’s just call it luck, and the fact that it would seem 98.38% of the questions are answered ‘c.’ But it was nice of him to notice that my scores are looking pretty good.

I have the “OC” theme song stuck in my head. Californiaaaaaaaaaa …

My girlfriend and I watched some of Basic Instinct last night, but I think I fell asleep, as the last thing I remember of the film is Sharon Stone showing off her poon to a roomful of unattractive men. Seemed like a promising start, though, and less of a freakshow than Fatal Attraction, which we watched on Sunday after a very juicy “Desperate Housewives.” Lord, I have become such a homebody, it’s unbelievable. But who really has the energy to go out and do stuff after spending ten hours (including the commute) at work?

What is it about Big Boss Man that turns me into a stuttering, nervous mess whenever we speak? Honestly. He’s a very friendly, quite attractive middle-aged Egyptian man - who, come to think of it, reminds me of Imhotep from The Mummy (not the rotting, screaming one, but the one where the guy actually has skin and looks human) - who is not intimidating at all save for the fact that he knows everything about this business. Our one-on-one and group meetings are always very laid-back and chilled. For some reason, though, I feel intimidated. Claustrophobic, even. My head gets really hot, and I find my voice drops an octave. It’s the strangest thing! I’m completely fine with everyone else in the office save for him, and he’s not even technically my ‘boss,’ but rather he’s just the guy who hired me. (The theory at the Firm is that we are all independently employed, our own little companies under the umbrella of the Firm’s name. Thus our workdays are pretty flexible. It’s all on us to do what needs to be done.) Ugh. I think I should take that course that Jen was telling me about some weeks ago; apparently it’s dramatically improved her business and interpersonal skills.

Hmm. Maybe some other time. Right now I must focus. The exam is precisely three weeks from today. Actually, let’s make that two weeks; Memorial Day is right in there, and I may be taking time off from studying to hit up P-Town with the girls, if things go as planned. I shouldn’t do this, of course, but you know what I’m like.