So I put my name in the hat for this new position that they’ve created at work. The position’s nick name is ‘Wall Street’ which makes it sound very important and sort of scary, but in reality, it’s pretty much the same thing I’m doing now, only talking to stock brokers rather than the general population of clients that I talk to now. It’s a little more in depth than that, but that’s essentially the scoop. There are a few more programs involved but there are also other programs that the Wall Street person wouldn’t have to support, so that would be nice, because I’m not terribly fluent in those programs anyway.
I had an interview with the Vice President on Tuesday and then a conference call with one of the people I’d be working with on Thursday. Then on Friday, I watched as a stream of individuals whom I KNEW also went for the position, got called into the Veep’s office for a short meeting. One that I’m certain consisted of ‘Thank you for your interest, but we’ve decided to go with another candidate, yadda yadda.’
Now, I was pretty certain that I didn’t get it for a number of reasons, which ranged from the fact that I wore my Doc Martens to the interview to the fact that people with more experience were applying for the position. But I was bummed, because I WANTED the position. It would mean more visibility, more work, a work schedule which was more conducive to Operation Hottie maneuvers, and several trips to NYC. I haven’t been there since I was 18 and I’ve been dying to go back ever since.
There’s a strange protocol at work. When you’re going for a different position, you don’t talk about it. You don’t talk about it with ANYONE. And yet, everyone knows who is going for it. Members of my immediate team were applying as well as some of my friends from other departments. It was strange because they all knew I was applying and I knew that they were applying but we all just pretended it wasn’t happening. I didn’t talk about it on here because it would have breeched that whole protocol that we’ve got going on. It’s like an elephant in the living room that no one ever talks about.
I was pretty sure that someone from within our department would get it because it was basically a senior level position and you’d need the background and experience of the products, but there were folks who have left the department who might have been considering coming back. It was all sorts of uncertain. Finally, one of my coworkers threw everything out on the table and said, ‘I know you’re going for Wall Street, you know that I am. Who else is?’ and then we’d try to figure it all out. She’s cool that way. I would have still been uber repressed about the whole thing.
So yesterday, we had our departmental golf outing, which meant that we closed the office at 2:00. I announced that I would take my lunch at 1:00 so that I could run home and get Esteban’s clubs for someone who needed clubs. And 1:00 came and still nothing happened. Neither one of us had been called in. We didn’t know what that meant.
I came home and sat in our extremely cluttered computer room and checked my email (can’t walk into the door without doing that. It’s like a damn sickness) when the phone rang. Caller ID said that it was from my company’s general phone number, but nothing more. Probably Mo or maybe the coworker telling me who got the position.
Nope. It was the VP. My first thought that ran through my head was ‘Oh god, you’re not going to tell me that I didn’t get it over the phone are you???’ But he didn’t.
He offered me the position. I accepted.
(cue theme song from ‘The Jeffersons’)
Yeah, baby! YEAH! Weetabix is going to be working with stockbrokers; making those influential stock decisions happen. Seriously. Just you watch. Give me a few months and I’m going to bring this economy back around. The Dow rose 500 points in anticipation of my arrival.
But it was very surreal. I mean, I was sitting at my computer, staring at Diaryland’s entry page, and getting this job offer. It was like a dream in the way that you know you’re dreaming when strange things happen and it’s just not right. Like, you pick up a dead salmon and it starts talking with the voice of Ross Perot. It was very strange and I had this feeling like maybe I laughed at something and blacked out, dreaming the entire thing.
I then went to the golf outing and had to face a bunch of people. No one was supposed to know yet, but the coworker who had laid it all on the table came up to me immediately and congratulated me, cluing in my Golf Chica Mary, who was standing there. Then one of the foursome congratulated me as well, because he is a member of my new team and they had been briefed by the VP. I think half of the people knew already and the other half were informed at the departmental meeting in the clubhouse afterwards, when they made the official announcement.
We also had a little weird game where you had a list of jobs and you had to guess which of your team members used to have that job. The job description I submitted was something like ‘I used to be a camp counselor and taught low ropes courses, leadership workshops, and led campfires where I taught everyone how to sing The Beaver Song’.
I am very stupid. I am a very stupid girl. Because you would have to know that when it was revealed that I indeed was the person who used to teach people to sing this mysterious thing known as ‘The Beaver Song’ that they would hear the damn song, right?
And need I even tell you that it has actions, including one where you make beaver teeth and say ‘Aruk Aruk Aruk’ like a mickey fickey beaver?
And need I even tell you that not only was my new superior–the VP–there but HIS freaking boss as well? And I made everyone sing the damn Beaver Song and make the goofy beaver teeth, complete with ‘Aruk Aruk Aruk’ because if I had to be up there making beaver teeth then I wanted everyone else doing it to? No. I don’t think I need to even tell you that.
So I’m certain they’re mightily impressed with their new Wall Street Account Whatever I Am. I’m just that professional.
My first goal will be to have the entire trading floor of the NYSE making beaver teeth at the closing bell. That would freaking rock.
After the golfing, the announcing, and the Aruk Aruking, a bunch of my coworkers wanted to go to The Bad Bar. Oh my. The Bad Bar. It is my Waterloo. And I don’t mean the Abba song either. Even though I really like Abba, I mean in the Napoleon sense.
So we all left the golf course and went to The Bad Bar. I declared to the Bar and anyone within earshot that I was going to be a good girl and was not going to get drunk this time. And I was serious.
I was given two shots and a Malibu & Diet Coke within fifteen minutes of that statement.
Gah.
The universe wants me drunk off my ass. That’s all there is to it. The universe is not going to be happy until I am shitfaced and living in a van down by the river, with a guy named Kenny who makes his Tequila money selling hubcaps he finds on the side of the road.
I think The Bad Bar is one of those evil presence kind of bars. Like a hotel in a Stephen King story or something. All Diet Coke and no Malibu makes Weetabix a dull girl. It WANTS me to love it. It WANTS me to rest my curvilicious ass against The Magical Wall Of Support. It WANTS me to lay my cheek against the leopard print barstool and moan ‘Oh god, the world is spinning and I just want a chilito to make it stop.’
I continued to drink only Diet Coke. My lovely coworkers, who only wanted to be able to see if I really was as funny drunk as they’ve heard, bless their little hearts, continued to purchase shots for me, including one which tasted like some kind of cherry cheesecake and made me want to lick out the glass.
And they couldn’t find the Tootsie Roll song. The owner came over and told me that he didn’t have it. Penny and I called him a downright dirty assed plaid pants wearing liar. They never did find it.
I did not get drunk. The bald and yet very cute bartender continued to give me free drinks for the rest of the night, although I only had Diet Coke. A strange guy started to hit on me because I made the mistake of talking to him at one point. And then he sat down next to me and proceeded to push his knee into my hip. All night. I’d scoot down a bit or twist away, he’d press it right back in. Knee. Hip. Knee. Hip. Kneehipkneehipkneehip. Gah. Maybe it was because I was getting hungry or something, but he really looked like that Chihuahua from the Taco Bell commercials. I kept expecting him to say ‘Yo quiero Curvy Round Sex Goddess’
Then as if to entice me to even more drinking, the Evil Bad Bar played a string of my very favorite tunes, including ‘Wild Thing’ by Tone Loc, some song about how Willy won’t go home, and then some Abba.
Yeah. It was ‘Waterloo’. And yeah, I danced on the damn windowsill again. But without the assistance of the alcohol, I wasn’t the hottest thing in the bar. I think Penny might have been. I dunno. I just couldn’t pull it off. Chihuahua Man was watching me with his big googly eyes though. After that song, we decided to bail. I told him that we were leaving and he said ‘Where?’ to which I replied ‘Penny’s house’ which was a damn dirty plaid-pants wearing lie, because we were going to Taco Bell first. I didn’t want him to offer any employee discounts or anything, so I fibbed. Karma then got the best of me because we somehow completely lost Mary. I still don’t know what happened. I’m so confused. We were going to meet at the Taco Bell near Penny’s house but she never arrived. I dunno. Penny got to hear the Crystal Waters song ‘Come On Down’ though, and now her life is complete.
I came home, went to bed. Esteban came home, went to bed, and then began snoring like a pig. I mean, he actually sounded like a pig. It wasn’t snoring, it was SNORTING. In the ten plus years that I’ve been sleeping next to that man, I’ve never heard anything like it. I began to dream about Babe and little singing mice and Babe’s adorable voice when he sings ‘la la la’. Then Tilly decided that she wasn’t loved enough and needed someone to pay attention to her. Right. Then. Then more snorting. I was pretty grumpy about it though because we had plans to go to the Renaissance Faire with Joel, Cheri and Scotty Boom Boom disgustingly early in the morning, so I knew that we’d have to get up in a few hours and then spend three hours in the car, then six hours tromping around the Faire, then the car ride back home. I finally got up around 6 a.m. and went to sleep in my little nest on one side of our L-shaped sofa. Where it was quiet. Best two hours of sleep I’ve had in a long time. I woke up with the pattern of our television remote buttons imprinted on my cheek and I didn’t even care.
Aruk. Aruk. Aruk.
