Either I’ve been very good or very bad. Or the moon is in the seventh house. Or something.
I say that because in the past 24 hours, I have been offered or invited to apply for three–count ’em, three–different positions. Which is odd because no one’s ever coming knocking at my door like that. Ever.
I have officially been headhunted.
How this happened, I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I understand there’s a labor shortage, but honestly, I can think of a dozen people in New Orleans who would feel right at home in these jobs–people who, unlike me, lost their jobs in the wake of the storm. Not that I’m complaining, mind you–hell, I’m flattered–but it seems more than a little weird. Did someone replace the “KICK ME” sign that’s usually on my back with one that reads “READY TO MOVE ON”?
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