I mean working girl in the truest sense of the word, none of this double entendre nonsense.
So we have the commuting - a bore in itself, unless you're lucky enough to have one of those train buddies. Always highly sought after.
- Never fall asleep on the train. You might perhaps wake yourself up snoring.. or drooling. Or your phone might ring in the silent carriage. Or you might sleep through your stop. Or miss the train. Or...
- No matter how hungry you might be, never buy food at the station. That Chicken Royale never tastes as good as you hoped it would. And you feel just as hungry as you did before you atre, except you also feel greasier. Mmmm. What a nutritous meal for a £5.
And there are the days at the office (conversations at the coffee machines, rolling about on office chairs, looking important as you wander the office with files of paper work, and the brief moments of panic when you can't find your friends in the canteen at lunch and are perhaps doomed to eat lunch alone.)
Then you have the client meetings. Where you actually leave the office to meet people other than colleagues at sales meetings.
These are a fairly new occurence. But involve getting out of bed exceedingly early and painting your face in the dark whilst trying your best to disguise the dark bags under your eyes. Those bags are only there because you forgot to go to sleep early, and the brain wouldn't switch off.
But you get into the company car they have supplied you (which technically is a great chance to test drive different models, but unfortunately they are brand new and therefore totally out of my price range) and begin to drive.
Of course you have allowed for traffic. And lots of it.
And there (of course) isn't any.
So you arrive in the city of meetings two hours early. Very punctual.
You find somewhere to park and pay a lot of money for a ticket - because let's face it you are an outsider and have no idea where the bargain car parks are, or even better... the free ones.
You grudgingly push coins in the machine, knowing that the company will pay you back.
With the car secured, and paid for, you wander in what you suppose is the direction of the town centre. You are desperate for a coffee. You didn't manage to have one this morning because you couldn't afford to be late - funny really, since you are now two hours early.
But you continue to wander, knowing that you will eventually see the comforting green sign that tells you coffee is close. It's might chilly. You'd forgotten that you had to walk about, so the coat you wear isn't thick enough and you aren't wearing layers.
You do have an iPhone which has an app specifically designed for locating coffee houses, however, earlier this morning whilst navigating with a satnav you think you jumped a red light, so you are reluctant to rely upon this method - not that you could do any damage walking. But one can never be too careful.
Ahead of you, through the early morning gloom, the green sign appears, and opposite? Well, well, well ... is that a competitor coffee company, with a burgundy fascia? I do believe I am torn.
But Starbucks make better muffins.
So you sit, in the warmth, nursing a skinny caramel macchiato and a skinny blueberry muffin (it just had to be done). Across from you sits a man talking to himself. You smile to yourself. You always have had a soft spot for these people. You look again, then see the script he is holding.
Ah, the actors of the world.
And next to him you spy an elderly man. You believe he has shares in the Apple store. There is a iPhone charging in the wall, an iPad in his hands and some rather impressive looking headphones, actually 'ear cans'. He looks very content. Breaking the mould. My grandmother doesn't know how to use her basic Nokia and Mumma Dodd has only recently learnt how to use our three television remotes.
The meetings were good, and the drive home was exhausting. Concentrating makes you tired.
You think perhaps the office isn't so bad after all. The coffee is better in the real world.