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Work, morning, office, Powerpoint and the frightening notion of that it is soon time for a meeting with my devil wears Prada boss.
There are minutes left and I keep repeating my arguments for why I should get a raise, a pension plan and insurance.
The sun shines brightly outside, I can hear the sounds of the street and the busy clicking sounds of high-heal ladies rushing to work as well as the garbage truck going up and down the street. So many houses, so many restaurants, so much garbage and so many perfectly dressed ladies off to work.
But there are also closer sounds up here, in the office. The closest sound comes from my colleague talking about a football game in London that he went to see last weekend. I am not even remotely interested, but he is a nice guy, so I fake listening to what he says and try to look like I am following the conversation. And then of course there is the never ending humming sound of the printer, always somewhere in the background.
It could really be so easy. I could just walk into her office and be confident. But it feels extremely difficult. I don’t feel like being humiliated today.
Why do I have to care so much?
As I walk into her office, I can see that she is tired. She says she hasn’t slept in two weeks and asks for the number of my therapist. She looks small and helpless. And I realise, that I am confident, and I suddenly feel great, especially in comparison to how she seems to feel.
She wants the number of my therapist? Wow, it is about time.
After this start of the meeting, discussing my salary is easy. I get what I want, without even having to defend myself..
After the meeting, I meet my brand new boyfriend in the busy street. He stands there with flowers and a happy smile on his face. The red and yellow flowers are for me, tulips and roses mixed with something that looks like blueberry sprigs. It is an unusual mix, and he is an unusual man, and I am probably not like the most people either. He says he bought the flowers for me in case the salary meeting didn’t go well, or in case I have something to celebrate. Which I have.
He tells me: Hey miss DF, do you realise, that you have everything you want now. And I know, he isn’t talking about my salary.
Everyone has to have their say. Apparently what matters is not the content, it is not what I actually am arguing, but it is the activity of complaining and telling someone (me), that what I do needs more work. That is important.
One supervisor tells me that “previous research” is not a concept I should use, while the other tells me to name a whole chapter “previous research”.
One tells me that the type of experiment I have used does not exist because he has not read about it anywhere before, and he has read so much.
One tells me that I shouldn’t quote so much because it will give the impression of that I am insecure. The other tells me that I can’t say anything without a quote as I am nobody to know these things.
I feel, this is not about what I do or what i write, instead it is all about complaining, for the art of doing so.
I feel like a little girl that needs to be told her place. Actually, it would be very nice if she returned to the kitchen or found herself a husband instead of go on trying to say something that she doesn't know in the first place.
Now, I have to find some kind of balance in making everyone happy, and this might result in making me happy too, someday, not today.
Why is it always on the guys terms, when to meet? Why do I always have to wait for him to decide when he can squeeze me into his tight schedule? I don't get this. And it is not me. I know I am kind of a control freak, but you have to be in this town.
I control my time and when I plan to do something with someone, we decide on what to do and when, in advance and then, we stick to it, unless something comes in the way. And if that happens we make a call. It is really simple. That is with friends however, either girls or boys.
But it is NEVER simple with guys that I am dating. Why is that?
I made a little enquiry among my girlfriends and they all experience the same thing. The guy is sort of up in the blue, says that he wants to see you, but then "forgets" to decide when to meet or forgets to confirm something you just talked about doing.
Is it something that lies in the nature of women and men? I don't like to make such distinctions between the sexes, but is it?
It annoys me so much that I am the one "waiting for him to call" again. I am soon done with waiting.
The next day, I woke up by the sounds of the busy street and my sister telling me that she had to go now, to catch her plane back home. I could tell she was stressed, but she looked happy. She said she loved this town and really wanted to move here. Too bad she hadn't gotten the job. Too bad she didn't speak the language. But there would be other job opportunities here, she was sure of it. She wished me good luck and then she was off to the airport.
Almost by coincidence, we had both gotten job interviews in that country, in that town, that week, however at different universities.
I was tired and thought for a second, wait, what am I doing here? And then I realized, and froze and tried to hide under the blanket.
No, this was not vacation, and it was not over yet, and I was meeting the odd looking nice man in about an hour. I had to get up, I had to get ready, I had to be able to stand up for my proposal that I had been forced to write yesterday..
I decided to not wear a suit, even though the interview would continue today. But after all it was Saturday morning and I was going to the home of my potential future boss.
I was nervous beyond belief. Why, I can't really say, because it was now clear to me that I didn't want this job. I felt so strongly that I wasn't the right person for it, and actually, the money wasn't good enough.
As if I ever cared about money before. Now that I think of it, it seems like a bad excuse I made to calm myself down.
The street was busy, the people were casually dressed, and that smell that I recognize from when I last lived in Spain was there.. It was the smell of Spanish morning, something like very strong deodorant and the smell of the newly cleaned little parts of the streets in front of the houses. I started walking towards the meeting point. I was early, and I sat down next to some Italian tourists, waiting for the odd man to arrive.
And I waited and waited, until I saw him coming. He was wearing tiny John-Lennon sunglasses, a purple shirt and leather pants. Leather pants, in this heat? He was smoking and walked up to me in his funny way.
And I thought, Ok, I'm ready. It starts here. Let this day of intensive interviewing begin.
I will get this job!
This week has felt like one long day that never ends… Since Sunday night, I am waiting for nothing and everything at the same time, and I feel stuck. It wont help me that time moves on and that next week will start in a few days, because I have no idea how long I have to do this waiting, it might be a few days more, it might be a week more.
It is really not my thing to wait. When I want something, I want it now. Not later.
It was a sunny day, I was dressed in a black suit and I had my new silver ballerina shoes on. I was carrying my leather bag with gold details (yes I know it doesn’t go with the silver shoes, but that bag is so perfect I wore it anyway). I was nervous and exhausted and scared and exited. Everything at once, but mostly, I was hungry. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and I still hadn’t had a chance to have lunch because the people that were in charge of my visit had not let me have lunch until now.
We crossed the road, where at least to me, millions of cars passed every second. It was dangerous to pass it, but I have always been scared of busy roads and cars, so objectively maybe it wasn’t that dangerous after all. He gave me a troubled look when he saw how problematic I thought it was to cross the road.
A few blocks away he stopped outside a restaurant. It was that kind of restaurant that is so cool, you can’t even tell from the outside it is a restaurant. But when we opened the door and entered, I have to say I was impressed. I think it was probably one of the most exiting restaurants I have ever visited, even though it was just for lunch and I was wearing a suit and I was with one of the strangest looking guys I have ever met, in a strange country far away from my safe little world.
I wondered what the handsome waiters thought when we entered, because I think we must have looked a bit odd. I was certainly over dressed and he..well..how can I describe it, he looked like someone from a science fiction novel. He was tall, very tall and very thin. His hair was blond, long and curly, and he wore it in a tail. It was starting to get a little grayish. He had big blue eyes, and earrings. He wore black jeans with a high waist and a leather jacket, and he hadn’t shaved for a while. His teeth were yellow and stuck out from his mouth in a not so charming way, and yes, he had a big scar on one of his cheeks.
He asked if it bothered me if he smoked. I said no (even though it does bother me if someone smokes, but what else was I supposed to say?). So when he smoked, he blew out the smoke as if he was in a hurry, and then when the smoke almost covered his face, he shook his head so that the curly hair sort of absorbed the smoke and I could see his eyes again. I was stunned, I had never seen anything like it. And behind that science fiction look, there was a person like nothing I have ever met before. It was like talking to someone that already knew you, someone that had such a kind soul, it seemed almost unreal.
It had some similarities with being on a date.
But it was most certainly not such an event.
Yesterday, I was asked during a job interview about my blogging experiences. I just didn't know where to start..
Today, everyone is doing it, and as strange as it sounds, it has become almost like an embarrassment to do it, as if people are doing it just because it is a trend.
I certainly didn't blog because it was a trend when I did it (and I don't consider this blog here to be blogging compared to what I used to do).
I wonder why I always hate trends so much when they become mainstream.
I suppose it has something to do with that I have too high thoughts about myself.
How could I be so stupid and fall for him again. And especially now, when the timing is so bad. I wish I knew what to do or at least could control my feelings. Which maybe I can, at least so that they don't show.
(And maybe that is my problem)
When I talk about it, I hear myself saying that I am not really interested, that it is more of a friendship thing to me and that I really want something else, so why even bother that he likes someone else.
And I believe what I hear myself saying.
(Because the other alternative sounds far too frightening)
But then I wake up in the morning, and in the morning, truth finds it's way through the window blinds and wakes me up with a big punch in the stomach, and I realize so clearly, that I am lying to myself.
I know it is wrong to judge people, at least if you don't know them or have too little information about them.
Who am I kidding, what I am really saying is that I LOVE to judge people based on how they look and by their profession. And I know that it is bad to do so, and I have some kind of guilty conscience for doing it.
Anyway, the people that work in this building, I would say, most of them are everything but ordinary. They lack many things, but what they have is some kind of high intelligence. This intelligence works in at least or usually in one area only, an area in which they are specialists.
I also suspect that if you are such a specialist, highly intelligent, but perhaps slightly socially handicapped, naturally you do not care much about appearance such as clothes, make up or hair, because caring about such things really give no other reward than to make you look better or feel better about yourself. And these people haven't yet thought of what looking good actually can do for you in this society...
Because, at least right now, at least in this building, they don't need to.
On Saturday night, in a very noisy, very un-intelligent, huge and horrible, but very popular bar, I suddenly see this guy, one of those that I have judged in a somewhat negative manner. He’s from the building, actually from the same corridor as I work in. And he is there in his regular clothes and hair and has friends with him that doesn't look like they work in this building. I am really amazed. Once again my sense of judgment was not to trust.
And I feel really bad for being superficial.
But today, I'm thinking, what if he had the same thought when he saw me in that bar.. After all, I work in this building too, and I am sure I am not objective enough to judge myself fair.
today
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