Wing Flapping

My new job gave me my own office with my own door that I can close on my own. I have a view out my window. I have a phone I can turn off. I have one of those pencil-thin flat screen monitors. I have two desks and a couch. I have my own coffee maker in my office. Aside from when I meet certain people, I can wear jeans and t-shirts to work.

I’m taking over a project mid-stream from someone who had to leave unexpectedly. This person, according to everyone I’ve talked to, was perfection herself, an individual of perfect, detailed-oriented, angelic beauty. Those are some pretty tough wings to fill. Luckily, I am Superman.

My training involved reading a stack of files as tall as I am (over two metres tall), and coming up with a work plan by the end of the day. Since when I walked into the office with the sketchiest idea of what the project is and left with a very set idea of what I would do – with new boss’ approval, I’d say I did it right. This is not bad for someone who has spent the past two years scraping together a very modest existence with freelance contracts out of his living room.

I have to give frequent presentations and speeches. Luckily I’m rock star manqué and I love the attention. I can do them in jeans and t-shirts.

I am most definitely in a cultural minority in this office. At lunchtime, a new colleague practically demanded a logic explanation for the Pesakh (Passover) dietary laws, which are in effect until the weekend for me. Assuming that one can ever find an explanation for anything in religion that doesn’t defy logic, I couldn’t come up with anything as I watched enviously while he munched on delicious fefalel, crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, and hearty qebbe. I nibbled glumly on my rabbit food spread on on crumbly, constipation-causing baked air and couldn’t wait for real food again.

I can arrive when I want, leave when I want, set up meetings with people outside the office as much as I want, and I have a budget for meetings I set up in the office.

My new job gave me my own office with my own door that I can close on my own.

Love is Like a Bottle of Gin

It makes you blind, it does you in
It makes you think you’re pretty tough
It makes you prone to crime and sin
It makes you say thing off the cuff
It’s very small and made of glass
and grossly over-advertised
It turns a genius into an ass
and makes a fool think he is wise
It could make you regret your birth
or turn cartwheels in your best suit
It costs a lot more than it’s worth
and yet there is no substitute
They keep it on a higher shelf
the older and more pure it grows
It has no color in itself
but it can make you see rainbows
You can find it at the Bowery
or you can find it at Elaine’s
It makes your words more flowery
It makes the sun shine, makes it rain
You just get what they put in
and they never put in enough
Love is like a bottle of gin
but a bottle of gin is not like love

“Love is Like a Bottle of Gin” by the Magnetic Fields