Marrying the Job

As a bean counter and number cruncher, Extraordinaire, I have long joked that in reality I'm just a corporate whore. I have worked for companies, large and small, in indentured servitude, slaving long and unpaid hours, in pursuit of missions I cared nothing about, providing product or service that missed my soul's calling my a maritime mile. I was paid to play the game. A whore.

Lately, however, I feel the urge to commit finally coming on, and it's scrambling all my programming. I never before found a job I wanted to marry. I would stay at a job only for a while -- months here, a year or two there -- but never long enough to get bogged down with commitment or to vest. And suddenly, here I am at the altar of commitment, longing to make that "pledge of troth." It's weird and it's glorious, simultaneously. My intensity is reawakening; I am thinking logistically and meaningfully about my professional career and how I can help this company achieve more, be more. I am starting to really care.  I expected this to scare me more than it does.

What does a corporate whore wear to her professional wedding? Red? That's a bad colour for an accountant ...