Please Hold Your Applause

Look what I found in my purse:

I've gotten into the habit of cleaning out my purses every single time I use them (freak of nature) and somehow this little paper evaded me long enough that I forget ever receiving it. I don't even remember the last time I cracked open a fortune cookie.. or got Chinese food for that matter.

But really. Coincidence? I think not. How did that underpaid, old fart, fortune writer know my life direction more than I knew it myself?! Voodoo magic. (Assuming this move is a change for the better. So far so good...)

Thursday evening I put on the closest thing I have to a business suit (pencil skirt + fitted blazer) and set out to walk 1.25 miles in wedges to the heart of Midtown (stuffy, business-y district but also home of the famous strip of upscale stores on Fifth Avenue) to meet up with some of my coworkers for a few drinks since they were in town for an all day meeting. When I entered the building they were in, I encountered a line of sleek metal gates (that separated the lobby from the many elevators) and a man who looked at me as if I was supposed to present him with something. Since I was evidently confused (and somewhat frazzled because I was late), he kindly told me I would need to go talk to the men at the front desk if I wanted to to enter his Class A castle. Well, he didn't say it like that. But you get the point.

I approached the desk where two older butler-looking dudes were working and they asked me whose office I was there to visit. I told them the name of our law firm (that's who the meeting was with) and my company and they nodded as if they were expecting me. When one of the butler guys asked me my name, I responded with a casual "Erika" and gave a little friendly grin.
Both of the butler-looking dudes stared at me blankly.
The one who hadn't asked the question quipped, "What are you, Madonna or something? You only go by your first name?"
What a jokester. I chuckled and said something to the effect of Yes, I'm kind of a big deal. People know me wherever I go. They busted up laughing, continued to give me a hard time for about 3 whole minutes, and then handed over my name tag which miraculously already had my last name on it.

When I got up to the 40th floor and found the correct conference room, I waltzed in, took a seat (I basically own the place), and proceeded to relate my little anecdote. They all thought it was hilarious and said it was probably the most excitement those poor guys had had all day. And then, of course, they, too, made fun of me and it became the first running joke of the evening. 'Who are you?' 'ERIKA' *proclaimed in a commanding, deep voice, paired with a furrowed brow and penetrating stare* --their reenactment.

I was also the butt of the second lovely and amusing running joke of the evening. You see, when I was up all night packing the night before I flew here, I was dead out of space and barely cutting it in the baggage-weight category. My clunky work computer (some may say conveniently, I say they're wrong) simply would not fit. PLUS I had accidentally left the power cord at the office! So all it would do in NYC is die a slow, painful death and therefore should be left behind to be transported at a later time, power cord and all. Totally logical thought process, right? Heh heh. Well, soooomehow no one sees it that way except for me. Fancy that. "Erika thought her jewelry was more important to bring than her work computer. That's funny, because I thought she was coming here to work."

Since I am the queen of impeccably timing manipulative statements (not), I gingerly made an observation that two of them would be in Santa Barbara the following week and that maybe one of them would have room in their carry-on to store a (slightly hefty) laptop and charger.

[Pause.]

"What am I, a computer mule?!"

Oops. This passive suggestion to the COO of my company probably wasn't one of my better ideas.

The scene:

Erika sandwiched between 2 middle-aged, suited men on each side -- all of which she is taller than in heels-- strolling through Midtown looking for a good bar. Erika walking into a bar with said "middle-aged, slightly vertically challenged, suited men."

We had a great time. I really enjoy the people I work with.

Lastly, I must say, that it is the most infuriating thing when you make sure to be at home ALL day, two days in a row, waiting for a package to arrive, and then leave at X:XX o'clock for a pre-arranged half-hour engagement, only to come back and see UPS came at X:XX o'clock + 5 minutes and didn't leave your package in your building because you might have questionable neighbors who will steal your loot. (No, that is not a run-on sentence because I refuse to believe my English written word is anything less than perfect.) Embarrassingly enough, as I was venting about my rough, brutal struggle with UPS to my oh-so-fortunate roommate, Siri decided to [try to] record part of my monologue:

Great. Just what I need. More of my own obnoxious ramblings looking me straight in the face.

G'night!