The PC term is Beverage Cart Attendant.

All summer I have been sitting on my ass. Or at least that's what my dad thinks I have been doing. Truth is, I've been among the crop of unemployed college grads who are completely stumped by the painful job shortage, and who are settling for jobs much below their qualification level.

I graduated from UGA in four years (which, you can ask anyone, these days, is a feat in itself). I knocked out two majors, and managed, after slacking a tad my freshman year, to kick my ass into high gear and pull out a 3.52 GPA, allowing me to graduate with honors. On top of that, I rocked two incredible internships in New York City. If I may say so, I whooped college's ass.

Yesterday I interviewed to be a beverage cart attendant, a position more fondly known as "Beer Bitch," at a golf course. So glad my double major and Cum Laude honors are going to good use.

For the first time in my life I had to take a drug test. This was an experience in itself. First off, I walk into this place that I have passed while driving a million times, and each time wondered what could possibly possess anyone to set foot in such an establishment. It's called "Any (LAB) Test." Seriously. Inside there is a nurse speaking a dialect of Ebonics that even someone who grew up in Atlanta, GA couldn't understand. I wasn't sure if she told me to 'pee in the cup' or 'be da gub.' I hope it wasn't the latter, because I peed in the cup.

Then there was this kid with his dad. I kept trying to sneak a peek at his forms to see what kind of (LAB) test he was there for, but then the nurse gave it away (I think) when she asked the kid if he wanted to wait for his drug test results (that's a rough translation--it very easily could have been something more sinister). I also assume drug test because when the kid looked at me, his eyeballs couldn't focus. It was like he had a twitch. Or was on meth. One or the other.

So I survived my first drug test. I won't know the results until tomorrow, but since I've steered clear of the heroin for a couple months now, I think I should be good. If (fingers crossed) I pass this test, I will have training on Monday. Apparently I need to be taught how to open a beer bottle and drive a golf cart.

Honestly, I am happy to have a job, it's just the principle of the thing. Who goes to college to sell Powerade to, and get hit on by, middle-aged golfers? I had such high aspirations! I wanted to be a wardrobe stylist. I wanted to write for magazines. I wanted people to know my name. Now I'm just going to be Carlen, The Beer Girl.

I guess there is something to be said for this job. They've already made it abundantly clear that I will have the opportunity for advancement. I only have to work there for three months before I can train to be a bartender...