I Shall Build an Army of My Own. A Robot Army. A Robot Army Made Entirely of Lady Robots

The first thing we’ll do is devise unnecessarily long titles for everything we write.

I need the distraction right now. As anyone who reads my blog or Facebook page already knows, I’ve been pretty upbeat since the layoff. I’m still me, however, so now and then I get anxious.

The last two days in particular have been nervewracking. I had a bunch of invoices to send people, and while I’m very (very, extremely, very) grateful to have clients to bill, I’m not someone for whom paperwork is an easy thing.

I feel like paperwork wants to get lost, and so far, I’m not getting any proof that this isn’t the case. Fax machines refuse to send W9s; mail goes astray. When they unravel the genome completely, they’ll find that this is carried on the same allele that makes it impossible to find my way back out of a doctor’s office I’ve just entered, provided we’ve turned a corner and opened a door. Maybe it’s some sort of physical world problem: directional dyslexia.

As if I weren’t anxious enough, I also have a meeting on Tuesday with the lovely people down at Unemployment, and I’m not sure how to explain what I’m doing. I sort of want to show them my schedule of work, perhaps in a colorful chart-type format, and hope that it sinks in that I’m probably going to be hitting them up for about two days a week in benefits, for the shortest amount of time ever. (This is assuming that my clients don’t drop me for being unable to persuade a fax machine to work.)

The people at employment yell at you in the security line. They confiscated Adam’s money clip, which his dead grandfather had given him, and threw Madeleine’s cupcakes into the trash in front of her, and said, “Now they’re TRASH.” If they treat me this way, I will lose control of my bowels and laugh at the same time. Now we’ll who has paperwork to fill out, Jimmy.

Paperwork, ugh. It plagues me from every angle. My biggest secret shame today is that I mixed up two invoices, and sent the wrong one to the wrong person. She was very understanding, but it did not look professional. (And, OK, no: the real worst is that as soon as I typed this, I realized that I’m doomed to get about about nine comments telling me that I’m using the wrong software to organize my invoices. And that I should also get a real job.)

Anyway, my point is that I am somewhat anxious. But still way less anxious than I was on my best day in an office. Also, weirdly, way more productive. I bet I’ll even get the hang of invoicing someday. Anything is possible, people!

robot army
Here I am, with my army of lady robots.

Published by Jen Hubley Luckwaldt

I'm a freelance writer and editor.

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