The funny thing was, was that I got wasted, totally drunk, for the first time, three weeks before I graduated from college. A swarm of alumni visited campus that week, for no particular reason, and assembled at a house. Because I was not talking, I was drinking, or maybe because I was talking (to Ben Coutney), I was drinking, and after I had drunk I would not be quiet. Maybe that was why I never got drunk before--I never talked.
When I got back to the dorm room, unable to walk for myself like any respectable, upstanding RA I plopped myself in front of the computer. Theresa squinted at me from her bed, “What are you doing?”
“I have to e-mail the manager at Zingerman’s. I promised him I would before tomorrow morning.”
“Caitie, go to bed. Do that tomorrow,” she advised before going to sleep.
But I wrote. I do not know what I wrote, but it got me the job anyway. I wonder, as I sit here applying for a new job, if I should not try that again and order a beer.
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