As you ascend the ranks in a TV room, they give you a fancy new title that basically only determines how much they pay you, as it remains (at least on SAB) fairly collaborative, with nobody really pulling said rank. But I was reminded by my name tag at the table read today that I am in fact an EXECUTIVE. I am also wearing the same pants that I got seven years ago off the sale rack at urban outfitters on 14th and 6th because I got hot sauce all over my H&M corporate slacks and so I grabbed them  in between running various lightbulbs and toasters and pillows and cable boxes to various corporate apartments all over the city, sweating through the rain,  during which, at NONE POINT did I ever imagine that I would in fact, one day, be on EXECUTIVE OF, WELL, ANYTHING. I am comforted by the fact that I am essentially the same girl sporting the exact same pants, and that said pants have gone from work pants to date pants to whatever pants! to Executive pants, to just, Pants.  But also, I am sort of horrified that I am still wearing the same pants,  but also even more horrified by the fact that it has, in fact, been Seven years, and that there will be seven even MORE years. HANG IN THERE PANTS.  WE STILL HAVE MUCH TO DO.

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