For the first time in months, I'm sitting in front of the computer and can't think of what to say. I could tell you about having Al and Meghan visit, and I will, but not now. I could repeat the actions of my day, the conversations, the antics of the pets, the ebb and flow of the hours for you, and I might, but not now. The new job is hanging over me like an unpleasant duty, making my stomach hurt just a little. Anticipation is one of my least favorite things. I hate surprises.
I had a look at my new employer's web page. It bites, I'm afraid, but it's not precisely their fault. City Search do a terrible, cluttery generic layout. I hope Horizon invest in a pc and let me at it. Right now they're on Windows 3.1, apparently, with no email or Internet access, just the Sabre database and the usual clunky word processing program. Someday I'd love to have Internet access at work. Why aren't more travel agencies online, you know? Email is so much faster than a phonecall.
There are some advantages to the old fashioned method, I suppose, since I have a lovely phone voice. People invariably compliment me on it. I once earned money taping ads for 900 number phone lines. I was the dulcet-toned goddess who sweetly informed the caller that The Sex-o-rama Hotline (or whatever it was called) was for the serious sensualist wishing to meet others like themselves, and all the caller had to do was give us their credit card number and expiration date to join the select few. It was a fun job. I still use what I learned then on my jobs now. "Why, yes, Mr. Johnson, I think Tahiti sounds wonderful as a vacation destination. All you have to do is give me your credit card number and expiration date to join the select few...."
