Skip to content

Bright future in sales

September 21, 2011

My laundry is in jail.

I dropped it off at the launderers around the corner on Monday on my way to work, planning on picking it up on my way home. But the problem is that it closes at 7 and I can’t seem to leave the office before 6:45. Tomorrow I’m determined to free my corduroys.

After three days of all day meetings, it was nice to have, well, a full day of meetings. But there were 5 different meetings in 5 different places, which made all the difference. The meeting with my boss’ boss went well. Better than expected, actually. He was kind of excited about one of my ideas. “This,” he said, pointing to the document I sent him in advance, “is why we hired you.” So that was nice. And tomorrow I only have one meeting. And there will be snacks.

I used to really object to meetings, but at this job, meetings are where stuff actually gets done. Which is kind of shocking, because that’s pretty much the exact opposite of my experience with meetings elsewhere. But I’m looking forward to some more serious writing and thinking time tomorrow.

In less pleasant news, at the end of the day yesterday, I realized that part of a filling fell out of one of my teeth, leaving me with a nice jagged edge that I can’t stop worrying with my tongue. It doesn’t hurt, but it is irritating. I guess I get to try out my new dental insurance when I get home. I’m pretty sure you have an idea of how much I am looking forward to that.

It was raining when I left the office at 7, and nearly dark too. The streetlights were shining on the damp sidewalks. In Madison Square Park, the hexagonal bricks of the walkways looked like glass, so that I stepped gingerly on them, expecting to skid across as if I were on an ice rink. The dog park was empty. In doorways all down 5th avenue, people were wrestling with umbrellas and checking their cell phones. Me? I didn’t even have my umbrella up. It has to be raining pretty hard for it to be worth the effort of an umbrella on a crowded city street. It’s hard enough to avoid bumping into people without all the extra gear. So what if my hair gets a little wet.

I realized when I walked into the building that I’m starting to feel a little like I live here. I no longer have to work my way through the keys trying to find the one that works in the front door of the building. I remember which way to turn when I get off the elevator and which lock turns left and which right. People are starting to say hello to me in the hallway. The other day, one man offered me a pair of shoes he was taking down to the trash room. “My wife spent a lot of money on them and now she won’t wear them,” he said with frustration. “Why would she buy them if she’s not going to wear them?” I eyed the stilletto-heeled, pointy-toed shoes, and wondered if I could even walk across the room in them. “I have no idea.But no, thanks.”

Tonight I’m lying in bed, listening to the floor creaking upstairs and the occasional sound of a car bumping wetly down the cobblestone street. I wonder how many cars will go by in an hour. I wonder if there are enough to count myself to sleep.

Advertisements
4 Comments leave one →
  1. eleanorio permalink
    September 22, 2011 9:11 am

    Wow! Your life has become so adventuresome. Harrietspy! Career woman!

  2. September 22, 2011 11:01 am

    Yeah yeah

    (the title — this refers to the title. Not any lack of enthusiasm on my part.)

  3. freshhell permalink
    September 22, 2011 1:47 pm

    Hope you get your laundry back soon.

  4. September 22, 2011 8:45 pm

    Your walk home in the rain sounds lovely. I’m so curious about those shoes! Like: what size were they, who made them…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: