Where Do I Sign?

My academic careen "career":

School's out, you say? Well fuck the real world for a game of soldiers. What kind of lessons can one learn in a university? I'll take three courses in nothing particularly useful, please (psychology - which I dropped like a hot snot, archaeology which I loved with a passion apart from the wet ditch with a spoon and a toothbrush lark, and modern Irish which turned out to be alarmingly useful).

Oh, those three years flew in! A masters? Why, I wasn't planning on getting an actual job anytime soon and it was very nice of you to ask, so why the hell not! [a year scurries by in the blink of an eye] What do you mean the thesis deadline has passed? My, time flies when you're in the bar having fun. Sure I may as well hang on here a bit, seeing as I'm enjoying myself. Six months more sound good to you? Lovely.

Fuck. Broke. Need a job. Am now overqualified in, well, Irish. Spelling still needs some work though, and grammar is a disgrace. Choices: pensionable state number or flaky college position. No contest. Free fees should I decide to pursue further study? Why not, it's not like I have a boyfriend to hang out with at weekends. A two year HDip in translation? Wonderful.

I'm sure there are bigger eejits out there, but fuck them, I'm the one who has 9 hours of grammar exams coming up [correction - 6 hours, 3 x 2. Good job it's grammar and not maths, eh?]. At least the end is in sight though. Or at least it was. On Friday morning I met with some interesting characters in another department of the venerable institution with which I am gainfully employed. They entertained me for a couple of hours and when I was leaving they jokingly suggested that I stay, or at the very least that I consider doing a PhD with them.

Hmm.