Yesterday THE WOMAN ACROSS THE CUBE fasted. All Day. In the morning she was jittery and chatty, I assume in an attempt to divert her attention away from her mild starvation. She called old friends and lost siblings, requested money for charity from some while complaining about her stomach pangs to others.
By 10 am I warned Lazy Secretary #2 that it was a "double headphone day" meaning she should wear both ipod headphones to drown out the inane chatter.
Unexpectedly, by 3:00 she was silent, like a horse with a broken spirit she continued sipping her Poland Spring water bottles...waiting for an apple. Around 4:00 she bit into that succulent fruit...commenting between bites that "everything's fine! this apple's all I need! everything in moderation"
She doesn't need to fast. If I look like her when I'm a grandmother all will be right with the world.
Today is a silent day. Its the kind of day where the phone only rings 4 times and all of The Big Executives are away at wonderful places: surfing at small beaches with hard to pronounce names where the concierges don't speak English, sipping coffee in Paris Bistros, or like my boss remodeling his Hamptons home by using nothing but non-union labor and gumption.
Its the kind of day where I am forced to ask myself, what does this all mean? Here is what I've done today:
Finished a book (The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls) by reading roughly 150 pages.
Went to have my eyebrows threaded
chatted with my boyfriend twice
submitted to various projects on-line via Craigslist
set up my new Ipod video, a gift from my father
logged onto petfinder.com to continue my search for a dog to rescue
researched what type of dog would be best for me, to my shock a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel came in second just under Maltese.
and obviously I caught up on email.
Here is what I didn't do:
make any contribution to society.
hmmmm. are contributions to society overrated? Am I stuck in a holding pattern?
I don't think I'm very different from other people. Lots of 30 year olds are in dead end yet cush jobs.
I know I'm talented, I know I have something to contribute to the world. I have so many ideas but I think I'm afraid.
Ick this blog is getting touchy-feely. I have to stop.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
The Club
On Fridays, The Big Executive, aka my boss isn't in the office. He is sitting poolside at his Hamptons home smoking cigarettes and sipping vodka tonics. This creates an extra long and lazy day for me, The Lazy Secretary. After Free Friday Pizza at noon, The Big Executive called me from the Mercedes dealership and asked me to run an errand for him,
"Can you take my dues to The Club? They're going to put my name up in the entryway because I haven't paid in three months!"
Its a free 20 minutes out of the office for me! Hooray! So I grab the obscene check and head to the Fifth Avenue Club.
As the door opens the chilly air conditioned air puffs out onto the pavement and my heels snap on the marble: large, loud thuds like in an extra quiet library. In this enormous lobby reminiscent of Grand Central Station 15 old men are sitting around in armchairs wearing blazers and having drinks. Not talking to each other-just loitering, staring. Its 1:00 in the afternoon! As if they are homeless, they give me that haggard gaze-that too many years in New York look. In my mind they are smoking pipes, of course they weren't but they should have been.
And I thought to myself. This is it. This is the New York I imagined before I moved here. The "dahling, please take me to 21 for cocktails" Breakfast at Tiffany's New York. The clean New York. The everything here is the best New York. Not the filthy subway, fat tourists, sweaty arm touching, black snow, weird food smelling, Pabst Blue Ribbon drinking New York City of my reality.
At least I caught a glimpse of it, if only for a minute.
"Can you take my dues to The Club? They're going to put my name up in the entryway because I haven't paid in three months!"
Its a free 20 minutes out of the office for me! Hooray! So I grab the obscene check and head to the Fifth Avenue Club.
As the door opens the chilly air conditioned air puffs out onto the pavement and my heels snap on the marble: large, loud thuds like in an extra quiet library. In this enormous lobby reminiscent of Grand Central Station 15 old men are sitting around in armchairs wearing blazers and having drinks. Not talking to each other-just loitering, staring. Its 1:00 in the afternoon! As if they are homeless, they give me that haggard gaze-that too many years in New York look. In my mind they are smoking pipes, of course they weren't but they should have been.
And I thought to myself. This is it. This is the New York I imagined before I moved here. The "dahling, please take me to 21 for cocktails" Breakfast at Tiffany's New York. The clean New York. The everything here is the best New York. Not the filthy subway, fat tourists, sweaty arm touching, black snow, weird food smelling, Pabst Blue Ribbon drinking New York City of my reality.
At least I caught a glimpse of it, if only for a minute.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
The Israeli
Today while sitting at my cube a tall Mediterranean person swooshed by me with a plastic bag and a clipboard. He was going for my bosses door, so of course I have to counter back with big smile,
"Oh hi. How can I help you?"
"I'm here to measure glass"
"OMG, are you here to measure my cube?"
The rumor is we are getting new cubes. I was thrilled-- thinking the process was possibly underway...at the very possibility that this shithole could look a little less like Guantanamo Bay.
"No, I'm here to measure windows for blinds"
"Ohhhh. Well my boss is in a terrible mood, is there any way you can come back later? My boss, he ummm (whispering) he owns this company"
"okay okay, I come back later, I understand how this world is working"
Twenty minutes later he returned with his clipboard, he put it on the top edge of my cube and began:
"You should go to Israel! You would get so tan, my last girlfriend (clap) whiter than you. NO BURN! Just tan, (clapping). You party there! You go out all of the time and you party! And it is so small, people say, Hello you, good morning you!. I want to go back. I keep saying these things to remind myself. You should go!"
I didn't know how to respond, I always think of Israel as a place for college students going to a kibbutz or really big guns but I didn't want him to stop talking it was far too entertaining. So I said
"Yeah, I totally should go and see the holy land"
"What?"
"The holy land"
"What?"
"You know, the wall where the people pray and stick things in the wall"
"Are you Jewish?"
"No"
"You know, Jesus was not born in Israel he was born in Egypt to Miriam and she wanted to become pregnant, so she asked God and he made her pregnant. From NO SEX!"
Now this started to really excite me. I love hearing about religious conspiracies. And sex.
"Wooow. You are totally right I bet"
"Yes. In the military we were taught that are gun is our girlfriend. No girlfriends in the military. But they teach you, Hey you, have fun! Have fun when you are young and travel, don't get married! On your birthday, they get a girlfriend for you."
"Wooow."
"Okay I've got to go. I like talking. I like you. I'll see you in a few weeks"
"Oh hi. How can I help you?"
"I'm here to measure glass"
"OMG, are you here to measure my cube?"
The rumor is we are getting new cubes. I was thrilled-- thinking the process was possibly underway...at the very possibility that this shithole could look a little less like Guantanamo Bay.
"No, I'm here to measure windows for blinds"
"Ohhhh. Well my boss is in a terrible mood, is there any way you can come back later? My boss, he ummm (whispering) he owns this company"
"okay okay, I come back later, I understand how this world is working"
Twenty minutes later he returned with his clipboard, he put it on the top edge of my cube and began:
"You should go to Israel! You would get so tan, my last girlfriend (clap) whiter than you. NO BURN! Just tan, (clapping). You party there! You go out all of the time and you party! And it is so small, people say, Hello you, good morning you!. I want to go back. I keep saying these things to remind myself. You should go!"
I didn't know how to respond, I always think of Israel as a place for college students going to a kibbutz or really big guns but I didn't want him to stop talking it was far too entertaining. So I said
"Yeah, I totally should go and see the holy land"
"What?"
"The holy land"
"What?"
"You know, the wall where the people pray and stick things in the wall"
"Are you Jewish?"
"No"
"You know, Jesus was not born in Israel he was born in Egypt to Miriam and she wanted to become pregnant, so she asked God and he made her pregnant. From NO SEX!"
Now this started to really excite me. I love hearing about religious conspiracies. And sex.
"Wooow. You are totally right I bet"
"Yes. In the military we were taught that are gun is our girlfriend. No girlfriends in the military. But they teach you, Hey you, have fun! Have fun when you are young and travel, don't get married! On your birthday, they get a girlfriend for you."
"Wooow."
"Okay I've got to go. I like talking. I like you. I'll see you in a few weeks"
Friday, May 25, 2007
Lunch Day
Every Friday is "pizza lunch day" at my office. This weekly tradition involves large numbers of Minor Executives and Do Gooder Secretaries queueing up outside of Conference Room A ten minutes to 12:00. Lunch starts at 12 Noon and it is of the utmost importance that one make it to the land of slimy Italian salads before anyone else can. It is also an excellent excuse to waste 20 minutes of company time. Usually I sneak in before the crowd because I work for The Big Executive. The lunch is always the same:
1. Pizza - thin crust
2. Various Soft Drinks
3. Subway sandwiches of several varieties.
4. Italian salads
I don't understand why free food brings out the worst in everyone: secretaries touching other peoples' sandwiches, shoving, skipping line and grabbing. Sometimes I avoid it all together. Its just not worth it. BUT can I be so elitist as to turn my nose up at a free lunch? No!
Today has an added tension: its the Friday before Memorial Day, and our office has a 3:00 release. Days like this are considered a wash, so much so that certain members of our staff bring children into the office. Once The Woman On the Other Side of the Cube asked me to watch her 16 month old grandson while she went to the bathroom. Another time I found a toddler running past my cube with no adult supervision. She grabbed for me and I had to pick up the filthy beast. This isn't a picnic for goodness sakes, its an office. If I wanted to be around children, I would have taken the day off and volunteered in a nursery school! And I like children, I just don't like children in New York. Period. They don't belong here. Go to Westchester, Go to New Jersey, Go to Long Island I say! New York is no place for children!
The other day I was fantasizing with my boyfriend about how I wish New York had a policy of "no children allowed" at certain restaurants. It could be done tastefully with signs- perhaps a pacifier or a stroller with an X over it. Then all of the parents and children could congregate with each other at "family friendly restaurants" where they belong.
I can hear one squealing right now...
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Activities of the Day
I'm back in the office after a minor hiatus, perhaps someday I'll write about it, but for now I would like to record what I've been up two in the two days since I've been back.
1. Spent many hours creating an evite for my 30th birthday party. It is a "Dallas" theme, so I downloaded pictures of J.R. Ewing, Southfork Ranch, and dollar symbols encrusted in diamonds, this represents "bling". I also began the planning, did you know that it only costs $175 to rent a margarita machine? Too bad I live on a 3rd floor walk up. I found an authentic Texas bbq place in Jackson Heights to provide the meat, but I think I'll make the sides myself. I might ditch the whole margarita idea for a "signature cocktail" I could call it The Dalla$ Dollar, or Oil Rush!
2. Finished a sock, listened to two podcasts.
3. Took a nap in my boss' office when he was out to lunch.
3. Caught up with everyone, all of the other Lazy Secretaries out there, sitting in silence, waiting for their phones to ring. Lazy Secretary Two and The Woman Across The Cube are both out. So its just me and my violet and the steady hum of the air conditioning.
1. Spent many hours creating an evite for my 30th birthday party. It is a "Dallas" theme, so I downloaded pictures of J.R. Ewing, Southfork Ranch, and dollar symbols encrusted in diamonds, this represents "bling". I also began the planning, did you know that it only costs $175 to rent a margarita machine? Too bad I live on a 3rd floor walk up. I found an authentic Texas bbq place in Jackson Heights to provide the meat, but I think I'll make the sides myself. I might ditch the whole margarita idea for a "signature cocktail" I could call it The Dalla$ Dollar, or Oil Rush!
2. Finished a sock, listened to two podcasts.
3. Took a nap in my boss' office when he was out to lunch.
3. Caught up with everyone, all of the other Lazy Secretaries out there, sitting in silence, waiting for their phones to ring. Lazy Secretary Two and The Woman Across The Cube are both out. So its just me and my violet and the steady hum of the air conditioning.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Secretary's Day
This morning when I walked into my cube. I found a little pot full of half-withered pink African Violets. A gift for Secretary's Day.
Hm. I used to have another African violet, from another Secretary's Day years before, but just a few weeks ago, it finally died. Despite my attempts with food, water and a special place right under the florescent overhead light, the poor thing lost its original blooms to never bloom again-eventually wilting and then dying, its branches unable to hold the weight of this place. Each one drooping and then falling off.
I always wondered about that little plant. If it missed its home on the African rain forest floor. If it missed the soggy dampness and warmth and the other African violets. If it missed the way the soft rain must have felt on its leaves. It just couldn't thrive under these lights, this intense quiet punctuated by the cackling of The Woman on the Other Side of the Cube and the rattling of the air conditioning vents.
When I finally threw away my little plant's remains, instead of having a funeral, I celebrated, taking it as a sign that my tenure here would be coming to an end. I thought my ship was coming in.
But then this morning I received a replacement.
How much longer is this going to last? Why am I not content? What do I want?
I wish I knew.
Its all not so bad, this morning I picked up a set of mixing bowls I ordered from a secretary upstairs, a woman trying to start her own business, trying to get out. I'd of bought ten bowls from the saint. Looking at those gleaming white mixing bowls made me feel contented if just for a moment, reminding me that I would be home in eight or nine hours washing my new bowls in almond flavored dish soap. Then after that, I can start mixing! Perhaps I need to learn to delight in the little things. Yes!
But then I remember that for now I'm here, stuck in this isolation, this silence with nothing but a violet to keep me company. A violet and three white plastic bowls.
Maybe I should take my new friend home. With its little pink blooms. This violet deserves a chance.
Hm. I used to have another African violet, from another Secretary's Day years before, but just a few weeks ago, it finally died. Despite my attempts with food, water and a special place right under the florescent overhead light, the poor thing lost its original blooms to never bloom again-eventually wilting and then dying, its branches unable to hold the weight of this place. Each one drooping and then falling off.
I always wondered about that little plant. If it missed its home on the African rain forest floor. If it missed the soggy dampness and warmth and the other African violets. If it missed the way the soft rain must have felt on its leaves. It just couldn't thrive under these lights, this intense quiet punctuated by the cackling of The Woman on the Other Side of the Cube and the rattling of the air conditioning vents.
When I finally threw away my little plant's remains, instead of having a funeral, I celebrated, taking it as a sign that my tenure here would be coming to an end. I thought my ship was coming in.
But then this morning I received a replacement.
How much longer is this going to last? Why am I not content? What do I want?
I wish I knew.
Its all not so bad, this morning I picked up a set of mixing bowls I ordered from a secretary upstairs, a woman trying to start her own business, trying to get out. I'd of bought ten bowls from the saint. Looking at those gleaming white mixing bowls made me feel contented if just for a moment, reminding me that I would be home in eight or nine hours washing my new bowls in almond flavored dish soap. Then after that, I can start mixing! Perhaps I need to learn to delight in the little things. Yes!
But then I remember that for now I'm here, stuck in this isolation, this silence with nothing but a violet to keep me company. A violet and three white plastic bowls.
Maybe I should take my new friend home. With its little pink blooms. This violet deserves a chance.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Have I done anything
Its 5pm.
I get to leave this hell hole in half an hour...but right now, at this moment there is absolutely NOTHING to do.
I've spent the last two hours looking at Marthastewart.com.
My friend, Lazy Secretary Number Two and I went to the hot dog stand (after finding out that a hot dog only has 270 calories) to find that the hot dog vendor was gone. The pretzels, drinks, mustard and ketchup were all there, but no hot dog vendor. We just stood there waiting...and waiting...and nothing. I wonder where he went?
I feel a buzzing inside of my head from lack of stimulation.
So I decide to look up photographs of "adoptable dogs".
Oh God... my God. Why have I done such a thing?
I feel a bit like a barren woman must have during antiquity...my life has no meaning because I'm dogless. I'm a waste of space, basically a common criminal because my inability to produce a dog.
as if I wasn't depressed already...
I feel the lights above me sucking my brain bone dry. And I just want to go home.
Ten Minutes.
How should I fill it?
Silence, buzzing, silence.
Five Minutes.
The Woman Across the Cube is whispering to herself. Proud of her date with a 45 year old.
I nod in approval. My eyes glaze over.
Three Minutes.
Someone stops by the cube and says, "you look tired."
I'm exhausted and I've produced nothing.
One Minute.
I breathe. I get my jacket and leave.
I get to leave this hell hole in half an hour...but right now, at this moment there is absolutely NOTHING to do.
I've spent the last two hours looking at Marthastewart.com.
My friend, Lazy Secretary Number Two and I went to the hot dog stand (after finding out that a hot dog only has 270 calories) to find that the hot dog vendor was gone. The pretzels, drinks, mustard and ketchup were all there, but no hot dog vendor. We just stood there waiting...and waiting...and nothing. I wonder where he went?
I feel a buzzing inside of my head from lack of stimulation.
So I decide to look up photographs of "adoptable dogs".
Oh God... my God. Why have I done such a thing?
I feel a bit like a barren woman must have during antiquity...my life has no meaning because I'm dogless. I'm a waste of space, basically a common criminal because my inability to produce a dog.
as if I wasn't depressed already...
I feel the lights above me sucking my brain bone dry. And I just want to go home.
Ten Minutes.
How should I fill it?
Silence, buzzing, silence.
Five Minutes.
The Woman Across the Cube is whispering to herself. Proud of her date with a 45 year old.
I nod in approval. My eyes glaze over.
Three Minutes.
Someone stops by the cube and says, "you look tired."
I'm exhausted and I've produced nothing.
One Minute.
I breathe. I get my jacket and leave.
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