Just Another Day At The Office

(Photo courtesy of forbes.com)

When I was a little girl, I wasn't much about dolls. My friends would buy me Barbies for my birthday, but they never felt fresh air on their plastic little faces. I wanted to play "office". (There was no Michael or Dwight as I ran a one-woman office.) My happiest times were spent with outdated calendars brought home by my parents at the year's end, 3 ring notebooks, pens of all sorts and paper, paper, paper. (Maybe it was the beginning of Dunder Mifflin!) In fact, the play kitchen that my parents bought for me was used to store my office supplies. The orange refrigerator was my library and the olive green oven held miscellaneous files.

Why would I want to pretend to cook fake food and feed a bean bag baby? There was a broken blue phone with push buttons waiting to answered with "Landers Insurance Company". Yes, I was CEO of my own car insurance company. Landers was my 'business' name. I can still remember insuring my imaginary client on his 1979 brown Celica (see pic above).

I've worked in several offices since I was four years old. Several real ones. And I've met Michael (he was my boss) and of course, a Dwight. Even though I never made it into the glamorous insurance world carrying a briefcase secured with a 3 digit rolling combination lock, I'm happy. Maybe because now I play with dolls. In my office, er, kitchen. I make them using my broken blue phone, uh, sewing machine. It took me growing up to find out that dolls can be a lot of fun. Even more fun than a '79 Celica.

A special thank you to Thrift Candy for being my first esty customer. Missa is an excellent bargain hunter and has more style in her pinkie finger than I have in my whole body. I hope that Missa's daughter enjoys her new doll.