Home Again
Now it feels like winter. It's not just that it's suddenly freezing, or that I got to break out my cute little white hat. It's not even that today I got to go through my yearly ritual: discovering year-old stuff in the pockets of my parka (I found a Lucky Star bus ticket, Nick, and got a teensy bit choked up).
No, no, the real reason that it feels like winter is that, yesterday, I worked a full day in Rockefeller Center without even thinking to take a look at the tree. It was just like old times.
In my defense, I no longer have a radio card, so getting in and out would have been a hassle, and I was running to meet my parents for dinner at the end of the day (by the way, El Charro, in spite of not actually being a Mexican restaurant, serves phenomenal guacamole, and the rioja was quite charming, as well, so fill up on both and don't bother with dessert). Besides that, resisting the urge to ask the security guy who used to flirt with me if I could just get in without the lame guest pass took a lot of energy--the front desk at 30 Rock sure doesn't hurry much at all, does it?
I did get to see a lovely sunset, and managed to avoid any awkward encounters with former coworkers. Plus, I think I will rather enjoy temping: it's much more like doing someone a favor than actually working. If nothing else, it suits my attention span. And, truth be told, my current commitment issues.
The day, however, was not without its fair bite of karma.
See, my former company (Company A) shares a set of elevators with one other, considerably larger, company (Company B). Given their size, they often use those elevators to move between their own floors, and given that they are located between Company A and the ground, getting in and out of the building could take us an absurdly long time. So there was a lot of eye-rolling (and even some cutting comments) that went on as we waited through, say, two Company B people causing four extra stops just so that we could get down to pick up a lousy cup of coffee. Since they had their own cafeteria, lunchtime was especially brutal.
Naturally, yesterday I spent the day with Company B (the cafeteria is so good, by the way). So I check in at reception on, say, the 28th floor. "Great;" says the receptionist, "just go down to 26, and 'Anna' is on her way to let you in." She pointed to the elevators. Anna was on her way. See how I couldn't ask about just taking the stairs? And, of course, when the elevator that was to take me down two floors opened, there was someone in it, and she did not look pleased.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. She refrained from throttling me.
Damnit! Now I'm craving rioja.
No, no, the real reason that it feels like winter is that, yesterday, I worked a full day in Rockefeller Center without even thinking to take a look at the tree. It was just like old times.
In my defense, I no longer have a radio card, so getting in and out would have been a hassle, and I was running to meet my parents for dinner at the end of the day (by the way, El Charro, in spite of not actually being a Mexican restaurant, serves phenomenal guacamole, and the rioja was quite charming, as well, so fill up on both and don't bother with dessert). Besides that, resisting the urge to ask the security guy who used to flirt with me if I could just get in without the lame guest pass took a lot of energy--the front desk at 30 Rock sure doesn't hurry much at all, does it?
I did get to see a lovely sunset, and managed to avoid any awkward encounters with former coworkers. Plus, I think I will rather enjoy temping: it's much more like doing someone a favor than actually working. If nothing else, it suits my attention span. And, truth be told, my current commitment issues.
The day, however, was not without its fair bite of karma.
See, my former company (Company A) shares a set of elevators with one other, considerably larger, company (Company B). Given their size, they often use those elevators to move between their own floors, and given that they are located between Company A and the ground, getting in and out of the building could take us an absurdly long time. So there was a lot of eye-rolling (and even some cutting comments) that went on as we waited through, say, two Company B people causing four extra stops just so that we could get down to pick up a lousy cup of coffee. Since they had their own cafeteria, lunchtime was especially brutal.
Naturally, yesterday I spent the day with Company B (the cafeteria is so good, by the way). So I check in at reception on, say, the 28th floor. "Great;" says the receptionist, "just go down to 26, and 'Anna' is on her way to let you in." She pointed to the elevators. Anna was on her way. See how I couldn't ask about just taking the stairs? And, of course, when the elevator that was to take me down two floors opened, there was someone in it, and she did not look pleased.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. She refrained from throttling me.
Damnit! Now I'm craving rioja.
posted by Caroline | 12/10/2006 03:06:00 AM
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