The morning of

She wakes up at 5 a.m. each morning, religiously moaning and groaning about the early hour. Hopping in the shower, she scrubs the grime of the weekend off and refreshes her tired mind. After, she spends roughly 15 minutes putting her "face" on, paying special attention to her skin that really took a beating over the weekend. Running close to five minutes late she grabs her coffee and rushes out the front door accidentally slamming it behind her at 6:20 a.m. This is her daily regime even before work begins.

The commute begins at 6:40 a.m. when the bus rolls into the commuter lot to be filled with dozens of exhausted zombies ebbing and flowing to the movement of the rather large vehicle on the rough Virginia roads. No one speaks. Some try to sleep, grasping ineffectively at the last spare moments of unconsciousness before they step off the bus to their destination for the day: D.C.

The brisk morning air tightens around the woman as she leaps off the jam-packed zombie wagon. She takes another sip of coffee trying to wake her mind before entering the office building she has come to call home (what else would you call the place you reside for over half the day?). The attendant at the front desk greets her warmly and with a smile; it's a pleasant exchange in such a diplomatic district.

In the final moments before scanning her access key, she stops at the restroom to gather herself for the rigorous eight hour day and make last minute outfit adjustments. Double check makeup. Fasten that last button. Tame the stray hairs. Smile.

Striding into the front desk area of the office on the second floor, she greets anyone else who happens to be in almost an hour early as she is every day. She arrives at her desk and sits down to begin the day. Turning on her computer, email notifications blast her screen and loose paper fills her desk. The day is just getting started.

"Washingtonian." She answers each phone call the same way: back straight, forced smile to convey pleasure, conversational tone. She has only just began to learn how to communicate effectively over the phone with complete strangers ranging from restaurant managers to district police. Each call is wildly different even though the questions are almost identical. The front desk shifts twice weekly aid her with keeping the phone tone conversational and warm, despite uncertainty and occasional nerves. "Washingtonian. Yes m'aam, let me transfer you."