resume sucks!
I don’t have any real job skills because I’ve spent most of my time hustling, making, and creating connections for Marcus. I only worked my job as a waitress for about 6 months and I can only hope that any job that’s interested in me doesn’t call my previous employer. I don’t even know why I’m bothering, I should just call my old job back and grovel to Keisha. I bet that bitch would love to hear me beg and I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
I search on Craigslist and take a look at the administrative section. One post immediately stands out to me which is looking for a personal assistant. That’s a job that I can do easily, anyone would be lucky to have me on their team. I’m going to make sure I write a killer cover letter because ultimately that is what’s going to get me through the door. What I lack in credentials, I make up in skill. If I could charm Diesel the biggest drug distributor on the West side then the people in corporate America are nothing. I find about 10 other jobs to apply to and call it day.
I contemplate watching some television but I think that I’ve watched enough of it to last me all year. I’ve been mindlessly staring at my flat screen for weeks and eating. I’ve been eating a lot, and I’ve gained a few pounds. I have had enough Oreo cookies to last me a lifetime.
Luckily for me, my weight goes straight to my ass, and my thighs, so men never complain. I plan on losing these extra pounds that I’ve gained because I love being a perfect 150 pounds because it looks great on my 5’7 curvy frame.
I get prepared to hit the gym so that I can work on whipping my body into shape and I notice that I have an email. My heart starts racing when I see that it’s a reply from the personal assisting job.
Damn, that was really quick.
I open it and its short and to the point, they want me to come in and interview tomorrow. I can’t help but think about how odd it is that everything is moving so quickly. This means that I won’t have much time to prepare for my interview. I respond quickly, my heart still racing, and let them know that I can come in for the interview at 11 a.m.
Okay, now I definitely have to go to the gym to run some of this nervous energy off!
I arrive at the gym about an hour later and I spend most of my time on the treadmill. I used to run track in high school, I ran the 400 meter and I loved it. Running requires strategy, stamina, cursing power, and a quick burst of closing kick energy. It always got my blood pumping and I was always nervous before I started but once I hear the starting pistol, I’m like a horse let out of the starting gate. The adrenaline rush that I got from running competitively is unparalleled. It kept me from getting in a lot of trouble, I got to stay away from my mom longer, and I got to keep my body in shape. I didn’t need to be a cheerleader in high school to get attention because my personality and my killer body were all the credentials I needed.
As I headed to the locker room to clean up I see Rodney. Rodney is your typical muscle head but he’s always so sweet to me, and I know that’s because he wants to fuck me. I refuse to fuck a man from my gym because if our relationship goes sour I don’t want to want to see his face or run into him every day. I tire of men pretty easily and so that’s a highly likely scenario.
“Hey Camille, how are you doing,” he says as he flashes his pearly whites.
I mirror his smile, “Hey sexy, how are you doing today?”
“I’m doing alright, I would be even better if you would let me take you out”
I roll my eyes, “Now you already know, I don’t mix pleasure with my workouts.”
“I know, I know. But you can’t blame a brotha for trying,” he says as he looks me up and down and licks his lips.
Normally, this kind of behavior would repulse me because I’ve always found that look to be creepy. That’s the same way my
I don’t have any real job skills because I’ve spent most of my time hustling, making, and creating connections for Marcus. I only worked my job as a waitress for about 6 months and I can only hope that any job that’s interested in me doesn’t call my previous employer. I don’t even know why I’m bothering, I should just call my old job back and grovel to Keisha. I bet that bitch would love to hear me beg and I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
I search on Craigslist and take a look at the administrative section. One post immediately stands out to me which is looking for a personal assistant. That’s a job that I can do easily, anyone would be lucky to have me on their team. I’m going to make sure I write a killer cover letter because ultimately that is what’s going to get me through the door. What I lack in credentials, I make up in skill. If I could charm Diesel the biggest drug distributor on the West side then the people in corporate America are nothing. I find about 10 other jobs to apply to and call it day.
I contemplate watching some television but I think that I’ve watched enough of it to last me all year. I’ve been mindlessly staring at my flat screen for weeks and eating. I’ve been eating a lot, and I’ve gained a few pounds. I have had enough Oreo cookies to last me a lifetime.
Luckily for me, my weight goes straight to my ass, and my thighs, so men never complain. I plan on losing these extra pounds that I’ve gained because I love being a perfect 150 pounds because it looks great on my 5’7 curvy frame.
I get prepared to hit the gym so that I can work on whipping my body into shape and I notice that I have an email. My heart starts racing when I see that it’s a reply from the personal assisting job.
Damn, that was really quick.
I open it and its short and to the point, they want me to come in and interview tomorrow. I can’t help but think about how odd it is that everything is moving so quickly. This means that I won’t have much time to prepare for my interview. I respond quickly, my heart still racing, and let them know that I can come in for the interview at 11 a.m.
Okay, now I definitely have to go to the gym to run some of this nervous energy off!
I arrive at the gym about an hour later and I spend most of my time on the treadmill. I used to run track in high school, I ran the 400 meter and I loved it. Running requires strategy, stamina, cursing power, and a quick burst of closing kick energy. It always got my blood pumping and I was always nervous before I started but once I hear the starting pistol, I’m like a horse let out of the starting gate. The adrenaline rush that I got from running competitively is unparalleled. It kept me from getting in a lot of trouble, I got to stay away from my mom longer, and I got to keep my body in shape. I didn’t need to be a cheerleader in high school to get attention because my personality and my killer body were all the credentials I needed.
As I headed to the locker room to clean up I see Rodney. Rodney is your typical muscle head but he’s always so sweet to me, and I know that’s because he wants to fuck me. I refuse to fuck a man from my gym because if our relationship goes sour I don’t want to want to see his face or run into him every day. I tire of men pretty easily and so that’s a highly likely scenario.
“Hey Camille, how are you doing,” he says as he flashes his pearly whites.
I mirror his smile, “Hey sexy, how are you doing today?”
“I’m doing alright, I would be even better if you would let me take you out”
I roll my eyes, “Now you already know, I don’t mix pleasure with my workouts.”
“I know, I know. But you can’t blame a brotha for trying,” he says as he looks me up and down and licks his lips.
Normally, this kind of behavior would repulse me because I’ve always found that look to be creepy. That’s the same way my
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