My job didn't really meet my needs as far as challenges went. I was a glorified secretary. That English major did little good in finding a job with a ...iving wage. I thought I’d write Catcher in the Rye from a female’s point of view. Yeah, I needed to get on that. Although the actual work was boring, filing, answering calls, typing letters, there was a very large part of my job that involved something that made me excited to come to work everyday with a skip in my step. I was fucking my married. Next to that an old mattress and a single dirty pillow lay on the floor. The only piece of real furniture in the room was an old metal desk. There was light spilling in the broken windows from a streetlight not far away. Still, the room wasn’t very bright. The men were all talking loudly and from what I could see and from their voices I would have to guess their ages varied from about eighteen to well into the forty’s or fifty’s. “This the ho you been telling everyone about?” one of the men. More

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