... that I started work at my current job.
Shit, I'm old.
We'll see what it gets me. (Other than continued employment, which was far from guaranteed a couple of weeks ago. Close call, there.) Five years ago, on my twentieth, my boss totally blew it off, and I almost quit. Then he felt so guilty that he WAY overcompensated, and I made out like a bandit. A massive dose of guilt can be highly profitable ...
... we'll see what happens today.
(Anecdotes? you want anecdotes? Oh, I've got plenty. I think my personal favorite has to be the time my boss was running late on his way to catch a flight and asked me to call the airport and have them hold the plane for him. HAAAAAAAAAA. That one still cracks me up.) (Yes, I made the call. Because I knew he was liable to check. The airline people and I had a good chuckle together.)
(You want some more? Let's see, there's my ongoing struggle with the asshole AFLAC salespeople; the time a crackhead stole a flowerbox off the porch and then returned it; the times (yes, plural) when employees went postal; the co-worker who, when overwhelmed, would shout "BACK OFF!"; the copier repairman who, when confronted with a groaning, grinding copier, told me, "it's supposed to sound like that" .... twenty-five years. One office. Holy cow.)