Clearly, I Need an Older Brother or Sister
Saturday, January 06, 2007
A few weeks ago, my assistant (who is really less an assistant and more like a little sister--she's awesome, firstly, and really funny, and she's only five years younger than me, so our relationship is really coworker-y and whatnot) and I went out drinking. She had had a really rough run of things at work--overloaded, stressed, and dealing with a lot of not-so-nice people, some in the office, some out. After she hit her breaking point one evening in my office, I decided that what she (and I) really needed were some drinks. So we tromped down a few blocks to engage in some pre-holiday merriment, which turned into several glasses of wine. Because, as you all know, drinking copiously is the only way to solve a problem effectively.
When we finally got up to go, I headed outside and she stopped into the restroom, so I found myself waiting for her in front of the bar. There was a guy standing there, kind of a portly finance type, in a suit with slicked hair, Jersey accent (he was on the phone), and visible wedding ring. When he hung up the phone, he turned to me and started asking questions: what I did (he guessed fashion, which, no and why that? Weird.), where I was from, who I had come to the bar with, etc. I was giving polite but vague answers, as he struck me as slightly smarmy. My assistant came out, and we started to walk to the corner when he offered us a ride, which we politely declined. Then he looked at me and said, "My god, you just... you really remind me of a girl I knew in school who I couldn't get up from my desk for!"
And this is where my innocence shined through, where I became the youngest 27-year-old on earth, where my young assistant became the older, wiser, world-weary party in the group, where, once again, being an only child with no older siblings to pass along knowledge or music or advice bacame evident. My response? "What does that even mean?" My assistant turned to me and replied, "Oh, MIss Peach. I'll tell you when you're older."
And then in dawned on me. And then all the wine and appetizers we'd had started churning in my stomach, and I felt a little woozy. Because EW. Ew ew ew ew ew ew. Ew ew.
And then he laughed and offered us a ride on his way home to HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN IN NYACK.
At least I can call 'em early on in the conversation, right? Smarmy, indeed!
When we finally got up to go, I headed outside and she stopped into the restroom, so I found myself waiting for her in front of the bar. There was a guy standing there, kind of a portly finance type, in a suit with slicked hair, Jersey accent (he was on the phone), and visible wedding ring. When he hung up the phone, he turned to me and started asking questions: what I did (he guessed fashion, which, no and why that? Weird.), where I was from, who I had come to the bar with, etc. I was giving polite but vague answers, as he struck me as slightly smarmy. My assistant came out, and we started to walk to the corner when he offered us a ride, which we politely declined. Then he looked at me and said, "My god, you just... you really remind me of a girl I knew in school who I couldn't get up from my desk for!"
And this is where my innocence shined through, where I became the youngest 27-year-old on earth, where my young assistant became the older, wiser, world-weary party in the group, where, once again, being an only child with no older siblings to pass along knowledge or music or advice bacame evident. My response? "What does that even mean?" My assistant turned to me and replied, "Oh, MIss Peach. I'll tell you when you're older."
And then in dawned on me. And then all the wine and appetizers we'd had started churning in my stomach, and I felt a little woozy. Because EW. Ew ew ew ew ew ew. Ew ew.
And then he laughed and offered us a ride on his way home to HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN IN NYACK.
At least I can call 'em early on in the conversation, right? Smarmy, indeed!
This entry was posted
on Saturday, January 06, 2007 at 11:06 AM.
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