By the Way, You’re Not the Boss of Me

Dear diary,

Nothing in my life is going as planned. I haven’t been discovered walking down the street in my $40 Old Navy skinny jeans and told I have “The Look,” my hopes for achieving a Guinness World Record for most chocolate bars eaten isn’t even close, and no one in my family takes my writing seriously.

I suppose that is the curse of being the middle child. I’m never the center of attention. Maybe that’s why I told everyone I wanted to be an attorney. I certainly grabbed their focus when I mentioned going to law school. But now that I’m working at a law firm as an intern, I hate my life.

And it’s not just because of the handsome and very annoying partner at the firm who insulted me before I even got the job.

Max Whitlock is his name.

I consider him my arch nemesis. Which may be a bit dramatic, seeing as I only met him last week. But I consider him the bane of my existence. Which is why I was shocked when he chose me to accompany him on a work trip to California. Only I wasn’t so shocked when he started bossing me around. Well, you can imagine I didn’t take kindly to all his wants. So I planned a little revenge.

Only it totally backfired on me.

But that’s a story for another entry.

Smooches,

Polly Campbell