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name and address, decided to write out the word “apartment” rather than use the abbreviation, and changed the completion date of my last job from “to present” to
    “January ’99” to “January 1999.”
    I am so sure I will be able to use this dreamy stuff in my Working-Girl-Finds-Love article that I type in the bits I have thought up rather than concentrate on my resume. I read it over, remarking that I like the use of “thoughtful kisser,” and “elegant inappropriateness.” I am more “excited” about this project than ever, so much so that I am actually a bit embarrassed when my bell rings.
    It’s a messenger with a press release and, I note with joy, a tiny shopping bag of beauty product samples. This is my favorite part of my job. I get lots of presents. Reading over the release and smelling the beautifully packaged bath and body products (This is so great, since I’m just running out of lotion), I press myself to think of an article idea from this faintly fig-scented collection.
    But, there are so many bath and body lines already. What is different about this one? Fig is yesterday’s news. Where is the story? I look at the ingredients to see if there is anything new inside that may be of interest. But the list is printed in French. And, although I took French for eleven years, I have never learned any chemistry words, and so this is no help to me. After cursing my $120,000 education, which I am still (not) paying for, I smooth the lotion on to see if perhaps it feels any different from other lotions. Nothing. It is rather soft and creamy though. But they are all soft and creamy.
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    Maybe I can write about the fact that it is from France. But isn’t everything these days?
    I toss the press release on the now three-foot-high pile of releases that I have never used for story ideas, but refuse to throw away on the principle that I will one day think of something to do with them.
    It occurs to me that I need to finish my resume. It’s really done.
    Well not done done. All I really have to do is spruce it up. It’s not that big a deal, honestly. But, then my stomach makes a sound, and I realize that I haven’t eaten yet today. You can’t work on an empty stomach! Everyone knows that. You’ll miss details. Forget the little things. What was I thinking? Not eating—really!
    After indulging in a meal representing carbohydrates in each and every form that can in the best possible light only be described as escapist, I get back to my home office.
    My desk is piled high with papers, folders, computer junk, notebooks, magazines, and an extraordinary number of pens bearing the brand name of everything from “Ralph Lauren” to “Galderma Labs”—most of which do not work. There are neat little officey things like Post-it notes that say, “Dr. Gesta is always available for interviews; remember him for lipo, microdermabrasion, and breast augmentation!”; stamps in a cute tin box with the words, “Remember to write to Maybelline when you’re writing a beauty story!”; a calculator which insists that “Covergirl is the leading cosmetics brand in the world. Numbers don’t lie!”; and paper clips in a box that says, “We’ll help you bring it all together with makeup artists and hairstylists from across the globe—Global Public Relations.”
    All this stuff is positioned very close to my bed. Okay. It’s touching and spilling onto my bed, which sometimes results in office product findings in some very unwelcome areas.
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    I ignore the mess and tell myself I will get right back to the resume, as soon as I check my phone messages. Ooh. But first I notice I have a little envelope on my computer screen, announcing a new e-mail message. I love that. There’s always a chance that it will be some big magazine saying, “We absolutely love the story idea