A few weeks ago The Boss asked me to attend an after-work function with her. The event was going to involve cocktails and a lecture on event marketing during the time of recessions. I told her she had me at “free champagne”. 

It’s a Saturday night in college. I’m at our local senior bar casually drinking my vodka 180 and contemplating double fisting this evening and ordering a Bud Light. One of the beloved senior couples comes crashing into me and I witness a full on make-out session. This occurred on a nightly basis (with maybe the couple would change from time to time) and I came to expect it like one would expect for the printer to stop working once you need to make copies for a super important meeting.

I never thought though that after graduating college I would witness these daily macking moments soberly on my daily transportation to and from work. Obviously I have seen my fair share of PDA in my 23 years – sometimes a quick peck on the cheek or even things that have made me blush. Lately I feel as though PDA has taken a turn for the worse to the point where I can see taste buds, yes taste buds. 

Maybe it’s because I’m single, but I just don’t understand the need for all the morning foreplay before the work day begins. It starts with hand holding, whispering in each other’s ears and quickly turns to making out four subway stations before you have to say goodbye. Newsflash to my fellow subway riders: this is not an airport and you will see each other in 8 hours. In most cases, I’m guessing you exhibitionists co-habitat from that huge diamond ring her left hand so can we leave the Slobber Fest ’08 in the bedroom? 

And it’s not so much that they’ll see each other soon (since you never know what can happen in 8 hours), but what bothers me the most about subway PDA is the fact that the morning rush means that a lot of bodies are going to be crushed into one small car that is hurtling underground. In my experience and during my intense research, these couples rarely hold onto things (the male thinking he is manly enough to keep them both standing), which causes a lot of bumping, falling, and awkwardness for those around said couple. Not to mention that I’m usually close enough to the twosome that if they asked me to join them in a “triple kiss” that it wouldn’t be out of the question (that is if I wanted to join). 

It’s possible I’m just being bitter (very possible), but I don’t think I’m wrong when I ask that the subway PDA be kept to minimum. My rules are simple to adhere to and I think they should be etched into every subway car in New Jersey and New York. 

1. No tongue before 3 p.m. 
2. Hold onto something so you don’t step on my new heels fourteen times on our way to 23rd street (and each other does not count).
3. Keep the slurping noises to a minimum – as in none. 
4. Licking of ears. Yikes. Just no. Not okay.

4 simple rules. That’s it folks. That’s all I’m asking. 

Or maybe we should just institute an “all couples” car? Thoughts? 

The CEO, The Boss and The President of my company are the kings and queens of ridiculous e-mails. Emoticons, swearing, and requests that make you want to throw yourself out of the window – these are the kinds of things I look forward on a day-to-day basis when I open up my Outlook at work. 

‘A Working Girl in…’  is a post written by a contributing writer that appears on Working Girl twice a month. This week’s post was written by a Working Girl living on the Jersey Shore about her decision to become a teacher despite her background in Communication. 

I’m not your conventional Working Girl who lives in a big city. I don’t wear posh clothes or pointy heels every day to work. I don’t do Starbucks runs or make photocopies for my “way too into herself” boss. 

In fact, my daily activities are the exact opposite. I live in a small town down the Jersey Shore. I wear button-downs and flats to work everyday. I make frequent visits to my purse for my Advil bottle and the only photocopies I’m making are for my 25 screaming students since I’m a teacher.

Teaching was not always included in my life plan. In college I was a Communication major from day one – a major that was mostly full of lacrosse players and preppy girls with pearls and matching drug problems. Communication was also known as the ‘easy way out’ at our college. My roommates joked that I never had a class before noon and that I wrote papers probably once every two months. Unlike my fellow classmates, I took my major seriously. Well, kind of (and apparently not as seriously as WG1). 

At first, I truly did want a career in Communication with the goal being to work for a television station or maybe even in the movie business. However, I ended up taking easy classes with professors who were closer in age to me than my parents. I was basically the Shawn Hunter of my friends (minus the leather jacket and the minor detail of not living in a trailer). 

Fast forward to summer after junior year (also known as my “Gimp Year” because of an injury I sustained on a muddy hill after my team took gold in Beer Olympics) when I interned for CBS Radio in Times Square. I liked the work, (some of) the people, and the grown-up feeling I got as I pushed my way through screaming Paris Hilton fans as I made my way into the MTV building. 

However, everyday I got on the crowded train, I felt more and more guilty.  The money my parents were spending to make me a ‘businesswoman’ was going down the drain. I didn’t want to do this the rest of my life. I realized I wanted to do what I dreamed of since I was a little girl – and that was being a teacher. 

So after graduation, as WG2 moved in with my family and began her job as an assistant three days after we left college (did I mention that WG1 & WG2 are two of my best friends?), I started taking online courses to become a teacher, spent my days at the pool, and waited by the window for WG2 to pull into the driveway at seven every night. By not having a job right out of college, I had become the rebel of the family. 

I stuck with my courses to become a teacher though and in the fall I completed an accelerated nine-month program to become a K-5 Elementary and Special Education Teacher.  It was the hardest nine months of my life (but I’ve never been pregnant so I assume that has to be worse). I took 30 credits per semester while student-teaching my ass off in a small rural town for one of the toughest classes in the school. Think third graders making suicide threats, stabbing one another with pencils, and students losing their best friends in drive-by accidents. Even though I don’t live in New York City, it still felt like it sometimes this year.

Even through all the “but Mom, I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow” tears on Sunday nights and partying way too hard on Saturday nights (Fridays are just too exhausting), I made it through and became a certified teacher.  This summer, along with enjoying my time away from the kids (I think I deserve it), I am taking courses toward my Masters and should be finished by December. 

Sometimes I get jealous of my friends and their glam lifestyles in the city, but I will never regret my decision to go back to school and follow my childhood dream. And even though I will never make big money and I’ll probably have to live with my parents until I get hitched, I still get my summers off (you know you’re jealous). 

Auburn Kat asked: What is your favorite store to shop in and why?

I rarely look good for work. I think it’s because I stopped trying around month three when I realized that there were no eligible men at work and after I saw The CEO wear a diamond-bedazzled skull and crossbones sweatshirt to work for the first time. I mean, if The CEO can wear a studded zip-up that promotes death then I think I can scale it down for my day-to-day wardrobe.

Dorothy Parker once said, “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.” While I might not agree with this statement (you’re talking to a girl who has been called ‘four eyes’ since the fifth grade), I do think glasses make a Working Girl look all the more professional. 

Take these classic tortoiseshell glasses for instance. These little suckers are the glasses that grace my face day in and day out. Do I think they make me look more like a pro than a schmo? I have to admit, when I’m wearing a pencil skirt and a cute top, these can make me feel like I could woo any client.

These playful and colorful glasses are all sunshine and lollipops. Sure to brighten any boardroom. 

Ferragamo. Prada. Versace. Designer glasses are like the little black dress of eye wear. And these Bulgari rimless frames spell out sexy secretary to me. 

Blast from the past eye wear can also spice up a boring black suit. And they’re cheap to boot. Buy these throwbacks to the ’50′s from RetroPlanet.com for $5.99. The price tag might make you even consider to order these without even needing them to read your notes from your latest meeting. 

And with the right eye wear, a Working Girl might not get Working Boys to make passes but I’m sure they could get Working Men to make moves. 

You had your chance to ask WG2 any question you wanted. Now you can ask me and on Tuesday you’ll have your answers! 

This morning I woke up at exactly 8:23 a.m. which is approximately 10 minutes after I should leave my apartment for work. Today’s post was supposed to be about my commute to work in the mornings but since I literally ran to work I couldn’t stop and smell the roses (or take pictures), so what you get is my commute backwards – flip it and reverse it.

This is the back hallway that I often take to avoid all the upper management offices when I am either a) late for work or b) if I want to sneak out without anyone seeing me leave. The latter case is what I used the back hallway for tonight – to avoid having to go to a happy hour with my co-workers (I mean, come on Top Chef finale or a Blue Moon?). 

This the bank of elevators I have to take up and down to get the 10th floor of my building. If you look closely you can see that they doing work on Elevator #2, which I have affectionately dubbed the Tower of Terror since it jumps between floors, which makes me feel like I’m plummeting to my death at least two times a day. 

As we leave my apartment building, you run smack dab into a bank of movie trailers. I work in an area of New York City that often is a set for movies and TV shows, which is pretty sweet except for the fact that I’ve never spotted a celeb to go with these shiny trailers.

I pass by this ice cream truck everyday on my home from work and I am always tempted to bust out my pocketbook to buy one of those Spongebob Squarepants ice cream pops. Fun sidenote, this is the exact spot where I saw Law & Order: SVU being filmed one morning. I had my bagel with a side of Christopher Meloni for breakfast (yum!). 

Simply put, this is the great view I have of the Empire State Building and Madison Square Park. These views are what remind me why I love New York City as much as I do. 

Today, I jumped on the hot car of the train which accounts for the lack of people in this quick snapshot of the PATH train I take home. The blurriness I can only attribute to the fact that I become a Nervous Nelly when taking scenery pictures or random shots of a poorly lit subway train taking me to New Jersey. I’m a creep. 

I usually walk the ten plus blocks home from the PATH train, but if I’m feeling extremely lazy/tired/it’s over 100 degrees, I’ll take a bus like this sucker home for $1.35. A true bargain when you’re running late for work. 

Welcome to the vestibule of our apartment. WG1 and I have come home after late-night snacking at McDonald’s or our local pizza place to bums sleeping in this very corner of our vestibule. We live in one classy joint. 

And the last stop of the tour of my joyous daily commute is the messy bedroom that I left behind this morning at exactly 8:33 a.m. – just ten minutes after I had woken up from my deep sleep by WG1. Stupid alarm. 

Ugh. And to think I have to do this all again tomorrow.