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A brief study in comparison and contrast between my new job and my old job:

New Job: Has a kitchen fully stocked with snacks and all manner of hot and cold beverages, including premixed Oregon Chai, which I already had to swear off drinking before I went all Wesley Willis about it and was sorry I got fat. A lady shows up twice a day to clean the kitchen, run the dishwasher and replenish the food and drinks.

Old Job: Had a “break room” crammed in the back corner with surplus equipment, a microwave and a refrigerator. No one cleaned it. What happened usually was that MDS would snap one afternoon and go on a frantic, drug-fueled cleaning binge after e-mailing everyone about what pigs they were.

New Job: Has a lush lunch room with seating for 25. A suspended television with a cable signal broadcasts more channels than I knew existed.

Old Job: Had a “break room” (yeah, that same one) with one round table and two chairs. You had to share the table with all the surplus equipment stored on top, so there was barely room for a plate and a cup.

New Job: China and silverware in the kitchen.

Old Job: Styrofoam plates and plastic sporks. That was only if you were lucky and someone hadn’t sneaked out the entire box of supplies for their family reunion picnic the previous weekend.

New Job: I was told, “You get an hour for lunch, but the world won’t end if you get back ten minutes late.”

Old Job: The world WOULD have ended.

New Job: Not Pants.

Old Job: Pants.

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