The Script Ended

Unglamorous me

Whoever reads my blog must be very patient with me. I don't post for ages and then when I do it sounds as if I am living this glamorous life traveling to exotic places and running around quaint French villages. All those parts are good but today was not.

It actually started with not being able to sleep last night - jet lag caught up with me. The sleeplessness was proceeded by an argument with my French man about where to put what furniture and what it all really MEANS in the big picture when we finally get to the moving in together stage (coming soon).

So I was in a fragile state when I arrived at my very French organization for a day of work.

Oh yeah...I forgot to mention the drunk guy on the morning train who insisted on sitting next to me when we were surrounded by empty seats, promptly leering in my face breathing out unintelligible French while pressing his leg against mine. Enough was enough when he lifted the armrest between us eliminating my last line of defense. I was out of there.

Settled in my new seat next to a sleeping and harmless looking girl I waited and waited and waited. This "express" train finally left just late enough to ensure that I would miss my next connection WHICH insured that I would miss my morning meeting WHICH would incur the wrath of our department assistant who is the de facto boss because everyone is afraid to make her mad.

When this assistant came to me later in the morning to tell me that I had yet again failed to fill out the required French gibberish form for some report I did not even know existed I ended up crying like a baby.

How professional of me! Yes, I was truly humiliated. Unfortunately for me, it did not end there. Before I could get a handle on myself, the Director of the department upstairs sailed into my office and came face to face with blubbering me.

He regretted it - but not more so than I.

I could have died. He hastily apologized and tried to back out the door - who knows what he thought my problem was.

And that was not all....I went for the perfect score when another colleague later came into my office and I (stupid me) thought she was coming to thank me for the great initiative I had shown by sending out a certain email promoting her event but...

nooooooooo

I had screwed up once again.

I had in fact stepped on her toes with this email and blah blah blah..you get the picture.

I basically could do nothing right while trying really hard to do everything right.

I should have stayed in bed. And yes, I cried in front of her too.

So much for my glamorous life.

Best friends

Speaking of New York. One of the cool things I got to squeeze in between meetings was a reunion of sorts with my 7th grade best friend. I am embarrassed to say that we are old enough to admit to not having seen each other for almost 40 years.

I spent hours at her house when we were 12 - dissecting our 7th grade dramas on top of her mother's bed. I don't remember why, but that is where we hung out. It was an intense friendship for me - of high importance in my life - the first real best friend that I can remember having.

The next year, in the 8th grade, we inextricably drifted apart.

39 years later we were two 51 year old girls hanging out again, dissecting the dramas of our middle aged lives - not on top of her mother's bed this time - but on the sofa of her New York apartment.

In a way, it is thanks to this blog that we reconnected. You see, as these things often go, she has had her share of major life changes. Her life has not gone exactly as she ordered it either. We have much in common when it comes to that. Thanks to the miracle of modern social media, she read my blog, we emailed, and basically picked up where we left off 39 years ago.

Do you think this would have happened if we were guys?

New York vs Paris

When I was a girl I used to dream of living in New York City. I fantasized about living in a high rise with a doorman and a view of Central Park. Frankly, I never dreamed that I would live in Paris instead - New York was enough of a stretch for me.

I just arrived back from 9 days working in New York with a quick trip to Boston thrown in. I have worked in New York before. Once when I was a new accountant at Peat Marwick I was sent to review loan files in a dreary New York bank office. Much more recently I attended several Collection showings for the clothing line I was selling. This time I was developing business, making contacts and shepherding a group of MBA students from one company presentation to the next.

I wonder what I will be the next time I work in New York?

I have to say one thing that is pretty obvious - New York is LOUD.  You would think that coming from the center of Paris I would be used to loud, but New York- style loud out-shouts Paris by a long shot. It also is expeeeeeeeeensive. For lunch one day I ordered a small bowl of risotto, a bread plate size portion of salad and a diet coke - actually 2 diet cokes - they charged for refills - for the bargain price of $37 including tax and tip. I am not kidding. Can you say rip off?

Makes Paris prices actually seem reasonable - which is a stretch. For once the painful exchange rate between the euro and the dollar worked in my favor - actually the company's favor - expense account you know.

I met a bunch of New York bankers - in spite of all the bad press - a really nice group of guys. At least they are nice while they are collecting their obscene bonuses.

With the price of lunch - no wonder.

Well my girlhood dream of living the New York city life morphed into my adulthood dream of Paris. Shows that all good things come to those who wait.