I’ll admit it – in the mornings, I’m a bit of a lollygagger. I’m supposed to be at work at 8, but this morning I just couldn’t bring myself to roll out of my comfy, cozy bed until 7:25, therefore missing the bus at 7:38. I was forced to take the bus at 7:48, but I’m so glad I did because I had pretty much the best bus driver in the world this morning.

When I was in college at Pitt, I used to love this one bus driver who drove the 71A. He was an elderly black man who wore Ray Charles-esque sunglasses and a gold lamé bowtie and annouced the main attractions at every bus stop we came to. “Next stop, Fifth and Bigelow – Cathedral of Learning, Soldiers and Sailors Memorial, William Pitt Union, Hillman Library.”

Well, this morning, my bus driver was doing the same thing. He wasn’t the same driver from my Oakland days – the guy today was a middle-aged white man with a goatee wearing a tan Port Authority polo shirt. I noticed it soon after I got on the bus – “Next stop, Liberty and Ella – Shur Save, Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, Del’s Restaurant” – but quickly became engrossed in the book I was reading and tuned him out.

Until we got close to Downtown, that is, and I put the book away and began really listening to the driver. “Folks, our next stop will be Liberty PAST 10th – Cultural District, David Lawrence Convention Center, Pennsylvania Culinary Institute. Now, when you get off the bus, please mind the traffic signals and cross the street ONLY when it’s safe to walk. Let’s be careful out there, folks, okay?”

We turned right at the Original Fish Market and he continued talking. “Once again, folks, the next stop is Liberty PAST 10th. I hope you have a great day and an even more terrific weekend. Weather’s ‘posed to be beautiful the next few days, and I hope you’re lucky enough to get out and enjoy it.”

He paused as we inched closer to the bus stop, then started up again. “Oh, and by the way, folks, I’ll be on vacation all next week, so don’t miss me too much! Ha ha! But I’ll be back again the week after that. See you all then. Next stop, Smithfield and 6th Avenue – Burlington Coat Factory, Mellon Square…”

I just loved it so much. He was sitting in his driver’s seat, rambling on about this city and all the things it offered. Part of what made it so awesome was his Pittsburgh accent – it wasn’t overwhelming, but you could definitely hear it in the lilt of his words, the “let’s be careful aht ‘air, folks” or “weather’s ‘posed to be beautiful.” Even though in DC the Metro was a smoother, nicer ride, I still prefer public transportation in Pittsburgh because of the personality of everyone involved in it – the passengers, the drivers. It’s as if everyone has collectively decided that, yeah, taking the bus is usually crappy, especially when it’s overcrowded during rush hour, but, hey, we’re here! Might as well make the best of it! Sometimes I think that could be the city of Pittsburgh’s logo: “We’re here, let’s make the best out of it.”

So, anyway, thank you, Mr. Bus Driver, for a very pleasant bus experience this morning. I hope I do see you again sometime after you get back from that vacation.

The past three months, I’ve been working as a temp for a major Pittsburgh company. In a week and a half, I’ll be leaving this gig for a permanent position at a local non-profit. I interned at this organization when I was in college, and it was pretty much the best working experience of my life, so I’m psyched to be headed back there to do a bunch of crazy, awesome things.

I’ve realized that the for-profit world is not for me. I just can’t get excited about selling stuff or contributing in any way to the selling of stuff. I think I’m realizing as I grow up that I really desire a simple life, uncluttered by possessions and distractions. I truly don’t care about getting the latest iPod or a flat-screen TV or 6000 channels. I just want to live my life with my boyfriend, in the simple old house we’ll be moving into in a little less than a month. I want to write books. I want to spend my working hours trying to advance a cause I believe in. Eventually I want to have kids and play with them in the backyard and teach them how to play hopscotch and this weird game about colored eggs I played when I was a kid.

Last week, I read this article in the New York Times about equal parenting. There are a few references in that piece about women choosing lower-paying, more flexible jobs. And I’ve heard it over and over again in the media that women choose to work at non-profits, or in areas like social work where they’re never going to make much money. But why should I kill myself working long hours, destroying any semblance of a personal life or writing ambitions, to make tons of money at a company I don’t care about and which doesn’t care about me? I’ll take the flexibility and work environment of a non-profit any day over that horrendous situation.

I’m not saying that non-profits are the most amazing organizations ever thought up by humankind. There are plenty of problems with them. In DC, I only worked for non-profits (although the last one I worked for was practically corporate) and I definitely got a sense of feeling like nothing was changing, no matter what the organization tried to do. (That non-profit, though, was trying to fight a pretty big battle.) But they definitely offered more of the things that I personally look for in a job than this corporate job I’m working now – friendlier people, flexible schedules, and interesting work.

And, oh, I will not miss being a temp. No more being addressed by my boss as “Hey” because he still doesn’t know my name after three months. No more condescending conversations about whether it’s better to file things alphabetically or chronologically or by subject or a mixture of all three. (They’re magazines, people. Let it go.) No more hushed conversations by the woman in the cube next to mine alluding to the fact that they’re hiring for the position I’m filling right now. No more unpaid holiday time, no more paying for crappy short-term health insurance, no more telling my supervisor I’m heading to the ladies’ room so I don’t get the evil eye when I walk back to my desk after being gone for two minutes. No more teaching my boss, who’s surely making at least four times as much as me, about the very complicated intricacies of a shared drive.

I’ll miss the free lunches. But I’ll be okay leaving everything else behind.