Sorry about the posting of this entry before it was complete last week. Here is the finished article:

I wish I had more energy to write to y'all about the new job. But between apartment hunting and readying for the holiday, my heart containers are nearly depleted (oh, the nerdiness!). Let's see if I can manage to give you the breakdown.

Day 1 was pretty uneventful. New phone systems, new visitor procedures--from the parking garage to the lobby, you have to identify yourself three times! Most people are pretty disgruntled by the time they get to where they have to go. They also seem to presume that I make the rules and derive a wicked glee from enforcing them. But that's life.

Day 2 was more exciting. I met Kennedy, ex-VJ and DJ for KROQ. She was my idol once upon a time, so it was cool to see her in her pasty white glory. She is much smaller in person than I had thought. Then, I had a run in with a B-list (is the "B" for Bitch?) celebrity when, while issuing a parking validation, I asked, "First and Last Name please?" The haughty answer came with a raised eyebrow for emphasis, and sounded more like a question itself, "Melissa Rivers?" Like, duh, how could I not know.

The highlight of the week came that same afternoon, when Freddie Prinze Jr. and his entourage arrived for a meeting on the 4th floor. The elevators in the building require a key card to operate. Additionally, each floor has a secured entry that requires the key card. Normally, your host is waiting in the floor lobby. Unless they are trying to make you squirm, in which case they make you sweat for a little while. We announce visitors, send them up, and they are greeted. Theoretically. I called and announced. I sent them up. The executive expecting Freddie dispatched an assistant to greet the party. I’m not sure exactly what happened next, but I got an angry phone call from the assistant, who insisted that because I had sent the party up prior to calling, they were locked in the lobby for several moments. The discussion quickly degenerated into a back and forth of yes-you-did/no I didn’t. The bottom line is that, even if I did so inadvertently, I locked Freddie Prinze Jr. in the hall.

Day 3, I discover the value of just rolling over when someone accuses me of making an error I didn’t really make. If the error is small, and it makes them feel better, a simple “sorry” from me seems a small price to pay for my sanity. Ok, whatever, I didn’t call you when your Chinese food got here. Fine.

Day 4, see above.

Day 5, ditto.