Friday, autumn 2009.
I would never dare to say it out loud, but I guess my secrets are protected under those shabby tiles, aren’t they? I wouldn’t be surprised if the waters of the next rain poured through the roof, soaking these pages, washing this ink and erasing – once more – my personal history. I’m feeling so low, so unskilled!
It was my first attempt on the nine to five scene. But, come on, I’ve done some job training back on my college years and I’m for sure not dumb. I’ve built my way here, disentangling myself from that stupid woman who happened to gave birth to me and her boring middle class john. Do you think it’s easy to be considered the black family shepherd when in fact you’re the only reasonable one below the ceiling? I was so confident when I first presented myself at the Sacred Spleen Memorial Hospital… It wasn’t hard to get the job: after a 5-minute-interview on Monday with that bitchy Morgana Wolf, I was given an employee badge. She seemed unconcerned about my lack of previous real jobs history and didn’t even glanced at my bachelor’s degree – and, Gosh, it took quite some paperwork to rectify my surname on it!
OK. To be an Organ Donor wouldn’t require any of my knowledge about the SimNation Medical Care System. The absence of work experience in that cause could, in fact, be counted as a bonus point. I would still have a great quantity of healthy ovules to give away to science and could even risk a marrow or a kidney donation. But Morgana acted weird, extremely indifferent. I guess all years she spent stuffing in hormones to speed up her ovules maturation process so she could make the life of a few couples happier – as well as her paycheck – messed with the girl’s head. I’ve been working myself out for a week already and still didn’t get a promotion. What is missing? A haircut? Come on, I like my hairstyle and I definitely believe my cotton beret gives me some cool, yet elegant, appearance.
I watched 4 endless lectures about the risks of my job. I stuffed in my first hormone pack. I’ve schedule a tissue type exam. I was expecting to get a step further on this hospital before actually having myself cut open! But it seems it’s not going to happen. Could Morgana be delaying my progress on purpose? I’m sure she would be capable of doing so just like her former boss did to her. Grumpy revengeful resident!
Jamie Jolina is not all easygoing as she seemed at first sight. Yesterday she complained about the dirty scrubs I left on the locker room’s floor. First of all, they weren’t mine. But even if they were she could have been a bit less rude when telling me about her frustrations. Anyway, since she’s still the person I know for the longest time in Sunset Valley, I decided to pass by her house today.
We chatted a bit, but since she was coming from a late shift, soon was time to go back home.
Well, this narration is not supposed to be all about bad news, is it? Thanks to this Organ Donor job, I gathered enough money to buy a bed and add an extra room to my toil… I mean, house. Now 15 Summer Hill Court actually hosts a suite.
I’m glad I can sleep on a bed and not anymore on an uncomfortable wood bench. It really eases my back – and my mood. I would prefer a double-bed – even if until now I didn’t find anyone in this town that could actually interest me as a boyfriend. Actually I didn’t met many Sunset Valley’s men. Except for Mr. Landgraab, who is a rich and married gene therapist, all my co-workers are females. During my tours to the Central Park or even when I went checking the cocktail bar at the Old Pier Beach, I didn’t met any guy of my age.
VJ Alvi, with whom I played a chess game at the Old Pier Beach, wasn’t nice at all. I hated his spike-like hair and even more he’s only seventeen! I’d like to find a real companion to settle down and have legitimate kids. I don’t see myself mothering a teen while having an affair with him. Oh, no! Hey, diary, do you think that I might soon discover that all the pretty boys in this town are taken or staying inside?