My Dream Job

At the ripe old age of x, I have finally decided what my dream job would be. Not what my dream job really would be if I wanted to annoy my mother/ ex-boyfriends, etc. but My Real Dream Job.

(a little drumroll for effect)

..... IN-HOUSE LEGAL AT CHANEL!!! Or Prada. Or Yves St Laurent. With special assistance to the Creative Director. Whatever. Take me! I'll work for whatever you'll pay! So long as every year, I get to pick out 5 new outfits as my bonus. One of which must be haute couture, i.e. moulded to fit my cute little butt and only my cute little butt.

My inner voice keeps whispering ... this is so shallow. uhh uhh. this is so shallow. uhh uhh (inner voice is currently listening to Gorillaz "Feel Good etc")

Shallowness be damned. Some people find brain surgery fulfilling. Other people quit their jobs to do charity work. My passion is a Chanel suit, complete with the gold chain sewn into the inside bottom seams of the jackets (so that the jacket hangs like a dream). What's wrong with that?!?

Met an audit partner from one of the Big Five audit firms once. Gave him my namecard, exchanged job descriptions, etc. and I was starting in on my 'well, how about you give my firm some more work' spiel, with some light client name-dropping when he stopped me in my tracks.

"We do work for Chanel" says he, slightly inebriated.

"Wow! Really! That's very interesting. Do you handle their audits yourself?" sez me, momentarily forgetting to tripod.

"Yeah. I do their stock-takes."

"Wow! Really! So you get to see all their warehouse stock!"

"Well, yes, but we also help them deal with excess stock."

"WOW! SO LIKE YOU GET TO GO FOR THE WAREHOUSE SALE?" Oh God! This man is a God!

"No, I help them to DESTROY the excess stock. I have to pick up their shears and help them to cut up the suits."

"You... cut up Chanel suits?" Oh God.. I've met the Antichrist.

"Yes, the skirt, the jacket, the blouse, the ..."

At this point, I had to turn away and look down into my drink. Couldn't help it. I was seriously about to cry. If I was his audit assistant, I would have stabbed him with my shears, grabbed a bunch of suits (preferably black, cream or dark blue, size XS) and started running.