You're a Real New Yorker Now, Pinocciette

I don't blog about work anymore, because that's foolish and probably only interesting to me, but my job has been steadily evolving and I don't think my friends understand. When I arrived in California with my new, old, Blackberry people asked, "Why do you have a Blackberry? We thought you made photocopies for a living. How do you make photocopies on a Blackberry?" Ha ha. Ha.

Last night my boss gave me the specs of a brand new presentation to create at 7:30pm. The presentation had to be shipped via FedEx to the client for review tonight and he asked if I could have a first draft ready for him to look at by the time he arrived in the morning. I decided to start fresh at 8:30am - he figured it would take me about two hours, but I gave myself an extra half hour. At 7:42am I got the first Blackberry buzz of the day, so I stood outside the subway entrance at Grand Army Plaza juggling my cell phone and PDA, feeling technologically inept and looking like an asshole but I had to get something done before I got on the train and lost reception.

Sat down at my desk by 8:30am and started working on the presentation with my eyes wide and my shoulders mirgrating towards my ears as I raced the clock. I'm never in the office before 9:00am and I think everyone knew not to talk to me. I finished a first draft of the presentation and put a copy on the Boss's chair. Then I treated myself by heading down to Starbucks for a nice Iced Coffee with ... soy milk? Milk from legume ... must convince myself I am being refreshed and receiving nourishing caffeine ... gaaaaaarrr

I soon learned that after my boss and the CEO had given feedback on the presentation, they passed it off to the Assistant Vice President in Marketing. This makes sense because the work was very time sensitive, but that means I didn't get to see any of the revisions, get any feedback or even a general sense of what they thought about my work. Later I'll try to grab a copy of the finished presentation and see how close the final product is to my original work. However, the CFO is also hounding me about another project I've been put in charge of that he wants to get shipped out to the Board of Directors tonight so there's no time to get more involved.

Also, some handouts I outsourced to the printer for a 9:00am meeting on Thursday have come back with an error. When they come back a second time, I ask WorkFriend to help me collate and organize the materials for the meeting, which means I get to try out a French phrase I've always wanted to use, "Voulez-vous agrafer avec moi cet apres-midi?" [Do you want to staple with me this afternoon?]

Everyone is busy and stressed out. Interuptions are plentiful, recriminations are being slyly trotted out. ChickenMama sends me an email about a bleach stain on her crotch and mentions bleeding from her eyeballs; I am too busy to respond. I am too busy to do anyting. I don't check The Times, Slate, McSweeneys, hell, I don't even check Married to the Sea. When I finally get home and hear something about nuclear warheads being inadvertently flown over the U.S. I think, 'meh'.

By 2:30pm, I am weak. I decide to run out to Dishes for a fruit smoothies. Dishes is the most pretenious of the Midtown cafterias- the food is innovative, tasty and way more healthy that what sits under the lamps at your typical corner lunch spot, but try taking a trip through the buffet for less than $13. As I step out of the building, ten people are loitering outside our Starbucks. They are all drinking rich, creamy iced coffees. I can tell the difference just by looking at the color of their coffee and there is no soy milk in sight. A pregnant woman is sitting on a curb, sipping from a green straw and reading something. I want to pause and talk to her; I want to ask her if she is afraid about giving birth but I continue on to Dishes. Tears are streaming out of my left eye. I know that it is just allergies or the wind, but I think, I could just as easily be crying right now. I could cry right now. Sometimes it's like throwing up - you feel better afterwards.

I pass a homeless man with everything he has bundled in duct tape and know that I have nothing to cry about. I know that the flowers he is leaning over were not put on the corner in an effort to beautify 45th street, but because their concrete planter is a deterrent to terrorists. I get to Dishes and realize I'll feel better if I eat something and sit down for a few minutes. I miss my Dad. I miss my brother. I wonder where my friends go on the weekends. I dream about vacations I don't have time to take. The fact that I'd have to finance any trip now solely on my credit card no longer gives me pause. The only exercise I get is tripping up the subway stairs at the end of the night. I'm working really hard now and it feels good, but I'm not sure what I'm working towards. Is there a promotion in my future? I try to remember that noone owes me anything. Zzzbt zzbt. The Blackberry buzzes.

I get out of the office just before 8:00pm. A lot of things were successfully completed, some things were not. I decided to arrive at 8:30am tomorrow morning to get a jump start on the Board books, be on hand to greet clients and wives and coordinate the ballet of sedans we'll have chauffeuring executives and guests all over the city. Someone at work whom I admire wrote to me in an email, "Each passing moment is another chance to turn it all around." It sounds like something a high school sports coach might say, but now that's my motto for this job, for this year, and until further notice, for this life.