The Script Ended

using what I already know

I was asked to give a talk today on building a network and maintaining and improving client relationships to a group of young French account executives. I was the lunch time entertainment - lucky them.

Now, I love to talk and I really love to meet people and I really really really love to help and inspire the people that I meet. If, of course, it is appropriate to help and inspire them - I don't go around pretending to be the guru of inspiration with my friends - but if I am "hired" to do such a thing I grab the chance and try to rise to the task.

I have to admit though that after a whole 3 1/2 days in my new job, being introduced as the Manager of blah blah blah at Well Known French institution - I felt a bit intimidated by the expectations.

You see, so far at my new job, I have spent my time wondering just exactly how I am going to do what I have been hired to do. Everything seems so loose and full of buzzwords (I hate buzzwords, they are so excluding, if you don't know what they mean you feel like such a dummy.)

But I now have something on my side that I was missing when I was younger.

Age. And the perspective that comes with it. That perspective allows honesty. And honesty will always endear you to a crowd.

That is what I used today as all eyes were on me awaiting my words of wisdom. They knew quickly that I was brand new in my position and what I was going to offer was my experiences trying to succeed at challenges similar to some of theirs'.

You want to know something? It worked.

coming up on 7....I think

There is a french saying about being comme un papillon - like a butterfly. It is usually not a compliment. Flitting around from thing to thing without settling down is abhorrent in the French culture. Around here, if you are not satisfied with your career by your mid-30's, forget it - les carottes sont cuites - it's over ( literal translation: the carrots are cooked), change anything (except of course your spouse) after 40? Quelle horreur !

Thank God I am a foreigner - it must give me some kind of dispensation around here because tomorrow (yes, tomorrow) I start on what I think is my 7th, but whose counting, career. This time in a big official French institution - who would ever have guessed?

My title (I think - I will tell you for sure tomorrow) is Senior Manager Corporate and Career Development. Some distance from CPA at an accounting firm, but then again the furthest from that start has to go to my culinary stint or maybe my interior design business.........oh wait....no.......maybe the longest stretch from there has to be when I was in the fashion business....or maybe it was when I was teaching business English - naw that's not that different from accounting....accounting is part of business....cookbook translator, french tours operator.....forget it. I can't decide which career I have had is the most different from accounting and it really doesn't matter. However, just as an aside, I don't think that I was cut out to be a diligent little accountant forever.

But do you see what I mean? All that stuff was on my resumé, of course cast in a-  oh so professional light, and this major, stuffy, old world very French institution STILL hired me!

They even were fooled into thinking that I could speak French!

Maybe career # 8 will be as an impersonator....or ventriloquist.

Missed it

Getting completely wrapped up in a televised tennis match has been some of the most enjoyable and cathartic entertainment moments of my adult life. It doesn't happen during every match, sometimes no matter how good the tennis. Only certain combinations of drama, personalities, records seem to do it.

So innocent of what was to come, I remember our awe of Boom-Boom Becker as he won Wimbledon serving 8, yes 8 whole aces, during a match that included grass stains on his whites from tumbling to the lawns like a football player. I was screaming at the television in disbelief as he hit those aces. Boy those were the days.

Jimmy Conners 40th birthday celebratory U.S.Open wins against all odds and much younger players evoked a similar outlet for my pent-up emotions. So did almost everything that Andre Agassi ever did, especially his first Wimbledon win and grand slam victory for that matter. Pete Sampras throwing up of the court and still winning was another one. When I think about it, there have been hours of such engrossing pleasure thanks to televised tennis.

So when Federer and Roddick arrived at the 5th set of Wimbledon's final I should have been ready for another opportunity to pour my emotions out in front of the TV. (I really think that there is some kind of substitute peak-moment thing going on with me and televised tennis matches). Jane and I had spent the first 4 sets together happily screaming at the television and drinking diet cokes.

But on this Wimbledon Sunday I had foolishly accepted an invitation to a 6 pm concert in the home of some friends. It had sounded like such a good idea. I had briefly considered declining because of the final but then thought - naw, it will never go that long! 3 hours will be enough for Federer to do his work.

Who knew that Andy Roddick would be transformed? My French Boyfriend called from downstairs just as Roger and Andy tied it up at 2-all. Time to go. Damn! We were late already and it was going to be hard enough to sneak into someone's living room as it was so no procrastinating for at the least 4 more games (hah! if I had only known what was to come)

Don't worry mommy, I will text you the score. My helpful daughter promised. God, this was killing me! MFM didn't care a whit about the tennis so it was no fun updating him during our dash over to the 16th but I did it anyway.

3-2, 3-3, 4-3.........I think we arrived somewhere around 4-all. It was hard to smile at our hostess because it meant I had to take my eyes off my phone. This was sick, I was sick.

The concert began. Bach violin concerto.....SMS received 5-4, uh-oh critical moment.

Everyone else around me was clapping away for the earnest young musicians and I was glued to my phone...........5-5, 6-5, 6-6......no tiebreak, this was Wimbledon.

Bows grinding across the violin strings and Federer and Roddick played on. Normally I loved this kind of thing, but today it was agony. Clap clap clap for the piano solo........7-6 said my SMS.

Jane included a few comments - AR has 2 break points.......RF saves them both.

On they played.

7-7, 8-7, 8-8, 9-8, 9-9...........this was unbelievable! How could I possibly be missing this?? A girlfriend texted me some match updates - a much smarter girlfriend that me. She had been invited to the concert too and intelligently skipped it when the match wasn't over in time. We're opening up a bottle of wine and are not moving, the tennis is too compelling.....enjoy the concert for us!

Hah! Why am I always such a good girl? How come I can't do something against social etiquette like that too???

I considered pretending to go to the bathroom and sneaking out of the apt to search for a sports bar somewhere but I wouldn't dare and besides......I was in the 16th arrondissement.......where would I find a sports bar around here anyway?

The musicians were quite good - the tennis was better.

10-10, 11-10, 11-11.....How could this be happening to me? I was missing this chance to scream at the TV with my daughter and get out all my pent up emotions that were getting more pent up by moment!

My French Boyfriend was loving the music, I was starring at my lap.

A young and hunky cellist played a solo. I was compelled to listen to him, he was so good and incredibly cute. But...........12-12, 13-12 flashed my phone. I wished I was home on my couch.

Intermission! I rushed up to our hostess.....Vesna, I know that is crazy but do you have a TV somewhere that I could take a look at?

It's unplugged and moved for the musicians? Ugh, thanks anyway.

Me and my phone went outside for a breather. Yes, yes, the music was wonderful, but the tennis was still not over!

13-13, 14-13, 14-14........Maybe, just maybe the whole concert would be over and I could get home in time but that was even more ridiculous than the score. I called Jane.

What's going on over there???

Wait a sec mommy.........he just won.

Who won? What happened? Who are they showing on the TV?

Federer won and they are showing Sampras clapping.

What happened? How did it happen?

Andy missed, he lost, Federer won and Sampras is clapping.

And I had missed it.

At least I got to relax and enjoy that second half of the concert and there was some good champagne to drown my sorrows in afterwards.

And the next day, I wasted the evening on the couch with the replay.