Monday, February 21, 2005
Self, Centered
I walked towards the elevator doors with the gait of a condemned man. This was it, the big sitdown, where I would be read the riot act for spreading rumors and falsehoods. Gloria was gonna throw the book at me for the office's current rumor mill, and the worst part was I had nothing to do with the overactive imagination of my co-workers. Sometimes the worst of things happen under the big top.
The ride up to Bosslady's floor was no better.
"You're Reed, right?" asked the slender, lithe intern who stood beside me. She had big auburn eyes, the kind that always look to be on the verge of shedding tears. Light freckles were scattered about her face, some covered by the heavy foundation she was using, some bleached away by what surely was too many hours logged at the beach. I think she interns with Gregg Simmons' accounting group on the second floor.
"That's right."
"Is it true, you know, what they are saying?" the girl asked. Blunt, ain't she?
I turned and stared deep into her big eyes, going so far as to lean in towards her. She backed up a step, intimidated.
"People will always gossip, whether the story is true or not. It provides boring folks with something to occupy their sorry lives."
I wanted to say more but the doors opened and Bosslady's office beckoned. I smiled before walking out, leaving the intern to stand alone in the elvator for a moment before exiting. I put on the bravest face I could and made my way down to where Gloria's assistant Jeremy sat.
"Do I wait or go straight in?" I asked.
"Let me check." Jeremy clicked something on the side of his headset and informed Gloria I was outside. He nodded as she spoke, as if she would be able to see him from the other side of her closed wooden doors. He looked like a goddamn bobble-head toy.
He finally stopped nodding. "Go ahead," he said, with a mild spokesmodel's wave towards Bosslady's doors. I made an adjustment to my tie, gulped slowly, and went for the doors. Inside, the room was just as I had remembered it from the night before: Cavernous, reeking of leather and the smell money has after the bills become withered and overcirculated. I closed the doors and stood there until she acknowledged me.
"Reed, there you are." She motioned in front of the desk. "Have a seat." When I tried to sit at the couch that rested against one wall of her room, she waved me off. "No, over here in front of me. I like to talk face-to-face with people." Great. So she can berate me from close range.
I hesitantly took one of the two seats directly in front of her desk and settled in as she began. "I want to thank you again for helping with my car. It seems to be running just fine now. That's not why I called you in, however." Here it comes.
"As I mentioned to you last night, I want to take an active interest in my employees and how they function within the company. I want to learn about their talents and aspirations so I can assess their value to us and our bottom line. I also think it would be an invaluable tool for gauging a person's potential, how high they want to climb, and what we can do to foster growth."
Sounds like somebody who's laying the groundwork for firings. Am I first?
"Still with me Reed?" Bosslady asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah I follow." I nodded for reinforcement.
She shot me a quick, stern look, as if I was being a smartass, before continuing. "Since I thought of this last night while you were assisting me, I figure it's only fitting to start this campaign with you. So, tell me a little about your background and how you ended up here."
What? Oh. She hasn't heard anything yet. If she has she's certainly being uber-professional about it. Women in power positions have to put up with a lot of silliness - rumors and innuendo about how she ascended to her role, who she slept with to get the job or close the deal for example - in order to rationalize her lofty spot in the company.
I told Gloria about my schooling at UC Santa Barbara and how I first interned with Chiat/Day before being offered a job in Jack's department. I told her a bit about our department and some of our more savory characters, like Doug and Melinda. I covered my daily duties and what I hoped to be doing in 5 or 10 years. I probably talked too much. I can be that way when trying to please.
During one point in my spiel I mentioned an instance where I dealt with the creative group on a campaign. She stopped me there.
"You mean Eric (the head creative director) and his guys started getting ideas for their campaigns from you?" She shook her head as she said this. I guess I wasn't supposed to be doing that.
"Well, you gotta understand that I kinda butted in. I remember walking by one of their meetings and they were thinking out loud about something having to do with alcohol and young people, and I just stuck my head in and told them they were wrong. I told them what my friends and I would do."
"What did they tell you?" I suppose she was waiting for me to say that Eric told me to get the fuck out. He had a quick temper and a large ego.
"They invited me in and asked me more questions. They did the same the next week. And the week after that. I guess they liked having a focus group right under the same roof."
"What was the campaign, if I might ask?" Gloria inquired.
"Absolut vodka. Print ads, I think." She nodded in confirmation.
I continued. "The cool thing was being able to come up with some ideas that validated my age bracket. We look at magazines and commercials all the time that sell a style and culture to us and feel insulted looking at these ads, because you know the ad team had nobody in our age group contributing. They are making guesses about us based on stereotypes and outdated information."
"Interesting notion." Bosslady scribbled something on a pad. "And you enjoyed the experience?"
"Yes. I told Eric that if they ever wanted to pull me in again like that not to hesitate."
"Is that what you envision for yourself in the future here, or elsewhere?"
"Me? No, I'm an account exec - junior account exec," I corrected myself " - my thing is glad-handing the client and making sure any wrinkles are ironed out." Gloria continued writing as I spoke. "I liken it to being in a command center. I get nerve impulses from the client, the questions regarding money and timeframes, materials and the like, and I reassure any fears they have. I like that aspect of the job. I'm not creative. Not like Eric and his guys. They are very talented."
"Uh huh." She paused, and when finished writing, continued. "And what do you do outside of the office?"
Delicate. How do you say that you look for ways to meet and have sex with as many women as humanly possible to a female? That you're a skinny version of Bacchus, just out for a good time? I gave pause to the situation before answering.
"Well, I'm like anybody else. I like a good book, time with friends. I play volleyball. I, uh..." I was stretching and she could tell.
"You mean a mid-20s person like you isn't out partying it up? Have things changed all that much since the time I was doing that?"
"Well, I was in a fraternity in college so -"
"Say no more," she said, cutting me off. "But you aren't a socializer?"
"Since you bring it up, I do get around in social circles, mostly with people I've known from college."
Gloria sat up and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the deeply stained wood of her desk. Her Calvin Klein power suit wrinkled along the curve of her arms and reflected in the sheen of her desk. "I've hear you have quite the reputation as a ladykiller."
My face went pale.
She sat back in her chair. "Relax, I'm not judging you. Jeremy talks to the same people you do around here so the information is bound to get out. Is it true?"
"I like my fair share of women, yes."
She paused and looked me over, sizing me up. Perhaps she was envisioning the type of woman I pursue, or whether or not I was feeding her a line. "I appreciate your honesty and straightforwardness. I'm interested in seeing this put to the test."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, I still owe you a drink, Reed. I'd also like to see you in action, so to speak. I want to know how men of your age pursue women, and how they respond to you." I raised my eyebrow, a little uncertain. "Call it research for our demographic," she added. "What say we do that after work tonight?"
Bosslady wasn't asking a question; it was a firm yet subtle request. What kind of twisted power trip was she on? I didn't like this at all, but what was I going to say in my position - no? You don't last under the big top very long with that attitude.
I gulped, my adam's apple plunging quickly down my throat.
"Okay then, after work," was the reply I heard. Shit, that was my voice! What was I getting into?
The ride up to Bosslady's floor was no better.
"You're Reed, right?" asked the slender, lithe intern who stood beside me. She had big auburn eyes, the kind that always look to be on the verge of shedding tears. Light freckles were scattered about her face, some covered by the heavy foundation she was using, some bleached away by what surely was too many hours logged at the beach. I think she interns with Gregg Simmons' accounting group on the second floor.
"That's right."
"Is it true, you know, what they are saying?" the girl asked. Blunt, ain't she?
I turned and stared deep into her big eyes, going so far as to lean in towards her. She backed up a step, intimidated.
"People will always gossip, whether the story is true or not. It provides boring folks with something to occupy their sorry lives."
I wanted to say more but the doors opened and Bosslady's office beckoned. I smiled before walking out, leaving the intern to stand alone in the elvator for a moment before exiting. I put on the bravest face I could and made my way down to where Gloria's assistant Jeremy sat.
"Do I wait or go straight in?" I asked.
"Let me check." Jeremy clicked something on the side of his headset and informed Gloria I was outside. He nodded as she spoke, as if she would be able to see him from the other side of her closed wooden doors. He looked like a goddamn bobble-head toy.
He finally stopped nodding. "Go ahead," he said, with a mild spokesmodel's wave towards Bosslady's doors. I made an adjustment to my tie, gulped slowly, and went for the doors. Inside, the room was just as I had remembered it from the night before: Cavernous, reeking of leather and the smell money has after the bills become withered and overcirculated. I closed the doors and stood there until she acknowledged me.
"Reed, there you are." She motioned in front of the desk. "Have a seat." When I tried to sit at the couch that rested against one wall of her room, she waved me off. "No, over here in front of me. I like to talk face-to-face with people." Great. So she can berate me from close range.
I hesitantly took one of the two seats directly in front of her desk and settled in as she began. "I want to thank you again for helping with my car. It seems to be running just fine now. That's not why I called you in, however." Here it comes.
"As I mentioned to you last night, I want to take an active interest in my employees and how they function within the company. I want to learn about their talents and aspirations so I can assess their value to us and our bottom line. I also think it would be an invaluable tool for gauging a person's potential, how high they want to climb, and what we can do to foster growth."
Sounds like somebody who's laying the groundwork for firings. Am I first?
"Still with me Reed?" Bosslady asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah I follow." I nodded for reinforcement.
She shot me a quick, stern look, as if I was being a smartass, before continuing. "Since I thought of this last night while you were assisting me, I figure it's only fitting to start this campaign with you. So, tell me a little about your background and how you ended up here."
What? Oh. She hasn't heard anything yet. If she has she's certainly being uber-professional about it. Women in power positions have to put up with a lot of silliness - rumors and innuendo about how she ascended to her role, who she slept with to get the job or close the deal for example - in order to rationalize her lofty spot in the company.
I told Gloria about my schooling at UC Santa Barbara and how I first interned with Chiat/Day before being offered a job in Jack's department. I told her a bit about our department and some of our more savory characters, like Doug and Melinda. I covered my daily duties and what I hoped to be doing in 5 or 10 years. I probably talked too much. I can be that way when trying to please.
During one point in my spiel I mentioned an instance where I dealt with the creative group on a campaign. She stopped me there.
"You mean Eric (the head creative director) and his guys started getting ideas for their campaigns from you?" She shook her head as she said this. I guess I wasn't supposed to be doing that.
"Well, you gotta understand that I kinda butted in. I remember walking by one of their meetings and they were thinking out loud about something having to do with alcohol and young people, and I just stuck my head in and told them they were wrong. I told them what my friends and I would do."
"What did they tell you?" I suppose she was waiting for me to say that Eric told me to get the fuck out. He had a quick temper and a large ego.
"They invited me in and asked me more questions. They did the same the next week. And the week after that. I guess they liked having a focus group right under the same roof."
"What was the campaign, if I might ask?" Gloria inquired.
"Absolut vodka. Print ads, I think." She nodded in confirmation.
I continued. "The cool thing was being able to come up with some ideas that validated my age bracket. We look at magazines and commercials all the time that sell a style and culture to us and feel insulted looking at these ads, because you know the ad team had nobody in our age group contributing. They are making guesses about us based on stereotypes and outdated information."
"Interesting notion." Bosslady scribbled something on a pad. "And you enjoyed the experience?"
"Yes. I told Eric that if they ever wanted to pull me in again like that not to hesitate."
"Is that what you envision for yourself in the future here, or elsewhere?"
"Me? No, I'm an account exec - junior account exec," I corrected myself " - my thing is glad-handing the client and making sure any wrinkles are ironed out." Gloria continued writing as I spoke. "I liken it to being in a command center. I get nerve impulses from the client, the questions regarding money and timeframes, materials and the like, and I reassure any fears they have. I like that aspect of the job. I'm not creative. Not like Eric and his guys. They are very talented."
"Uh huh." She paused, and when finished writing, continued. "And what do you do outside of the office?"
Delicate. How do you say that you look for ways to meet and have sex with as many women as humanly possible to a female? That you're a skinny version of Bacchus, just out for a good time? I gave pause to the situation before answering.
"Well, I'm like anybody else. I like a good book, time with friends. I play volleyball. I, uh..." I was stretching and she could tell.
"You mean a mid-20s person like you isn't out partying it up? Have things changed all that much since the time I was doing that?"
"Well, I was in a fraternity in college so -"
"Say no more," she said, cutting me off. "But you aren't a socializer?"
"Since you bring it up, I do get around in social circles, mostly with people I've known from college."
Gloria sat up and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the deeply stained wood of her desk. Her Calvin Klein power suit wrinkled along the curve of her arms and reflected in the sheen of her desk. "I've hear you have quite the reputation as a ladykiller."
My face went pale.
She sat back in her chair. "Relax, I'm not judging you. Jeremy talks to the same people you do around here so the information is bound to get out. Is it true?"
"I like my fair share of women, yes."
She paused and looked me over, sizing me up. Perhaps she was envisioning the type of woman I pursue, or whether or not I was feeding her a line. "I appreciate your honesty and straightforwardness. I'm interested in seeing this put to the test."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, I still owe you a drink, Reed. I'd also like to see you in action, so to speak. I want to know how men of your age pursue women, and how they respond to you." I raised my eyebrow, a little uncertain. "Call it research for our demographic," she added. "What say we do that after work tonight?"
Bosslady wasn't asking a question; it was a firm yet subtle request. What kind of twisted power trip was she on? I didn't like this at all, but what was I going to say in my position - no? You don't last under the big top very long with that attitude.
I gulped, my adam's apple plunging quickly down my throat.
"Okay then, after work," was the reply I heard. Shit, that was my voice! What was I getting into?
2 Comments:
Huzzah! I haven't even read the post yet but I've been checking every day hoping you'd write again. Wanted to share this with you: I saw a shar-pei today. At a hardware store. It's funny the looks you get when you drive up to a hardware store in a 12-tonne truck, walk in, and exclaim "oh, a shar-pei!" He's pretty much what I expected from your writing. Not shy, but not exactly your neighbourhood golden retriever. Just walks over real quiet and smells you for a while. Neat dog, though. I'll read your post later today. Keep up the good work! (Oh, and why is it dated February 21? It only showed up today, March 3.)
Question: does Reed REALLY ever do anything other than look for a piece of tail? Even when he's at work, it seems everything he's thinking is still how to get laid. Does he do actual work? Or can he work and think about tail at the same time? (I know I can't - unless it wasn't any good!) And is this typical of what goes on in a guy's head? Any comedian would tell you so, but, really... is it? (Mind you, that's pretty much all I think about, too.)
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