Today on Oprah: Selfish bastards who love their jobs when there's so much pain and suffering and unemployment in the world

Past performance does not guarantee future results, but still, I should be past that halfway point in my current job where I start looking forward to my next position. It's happened with every job I've had in the past: I'm good for a job for about 3 years before my attention span gets short and I get claustrophobic and restless and decide that it's time to try something new, and I make it happen posthaste.

Over 22 months into this job, though, and I really can't complain. Maybe I've found what I've been missing all along. I've worked for psychopaths and transgendered slavedrivers in the past, I've worked nights in a convenience store and one shift as a telemarketer and one weekend in pizza delivery, and I've worked many, many jobs where I was at the bottom of the barrel and had no hope of advancing any higher, and I have to say that this job is the antithesis of all those things.

Here's the most important thing, though.

While I have only a couple of what I would consider "close" friends at my job, the little group that I'm a part of has almost a family feel to it. It sounds corny and cliched, I'm certain, but it really feels true. There's no "us vs. them" undercurrent in the office that I had at my previous job - we're all on the same team, which is really nice.

And yeah, the money's better than I could have ever imagined I'd be making at this point in my life. Sure, there are bad days, and there are gonna be no matter where you work, but those are few and far between.

Knowing the way I am, The Captain sent me an e-card when I moved into this job: "Congratulations on your new job that you probably won't like any better." I think he finally might have gotten one wrong, which is fine; he gets one a year.

The only drawback is that, because everyone in my circle is reasonably sane and has at least a modicum of common sense, it really is hard to surreptitiously write about their foibles and quirks. About all I can really say is that Nemesis is a slow eater, and The Pregnant One runs her heater anytime the temperature dips below 85. And neither of those scenarios makes for really good ammo for 600 words - I bet I'd fall asleep writing about it before you fell asleep reading about it. And neither of us needs that.

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