February 28, 2008

Hot Dog in Puff Pastry?

Posted in Keeping Up With The Cients, Lessons Learned at 8:26 pm by devilwearsbrooksbrothers

I have a deep, dark, ugly secret. Sometimes, on the weekends, – come a little closer.

Closer.

Closer.

I cater waitress.

I know what you are going to say. What is a smart, well-educated, well-employed (don’t forget pretty) person like me doing catering on the weekends? Well, sometimes I do it because the company needs me to, but mostly I do it to justify spending $300 on a pair of sunglasses.

And never did I think there was anything wrong with this dirty little habit of mine until I ran into a vendor on the other side of the dim sum station.

There I was standing over a steaming wicker basket filled with shrimp dumplings, wearing a tuxedo shirt and tie and there was Super Guy II, wearing a tuxedo shirt and tie (and jacket) and somehow his shirt and tie and my shirt and tie, while almost identical, were worlds apart.

As is almost always my reaction when something like this happens, I wanted to duck beneath the station until he went away. Recognizing that wasn’t an option, I crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t recognize me.

Of course all hope that he wouldn’t remember me vanished when a startled look of comprehension crossed his face. I fake-smiled (which you all know was not pretty), “Oh my gosh, Super Guy II. What are you doing here?”

“Hey there Devil? How are you?”

“I’m fine. Shrimp Dumpling?”

“No, actually I’m just looking for the bar.”

“Oh, it’s right behind you.” I may have cocked my head a bit as I said this last part as I am a big fan of cocking my head when I am faking confidence or enthusiasm.

“Great, well, see you tomorrow.”

Crap, I thought with my fake smile still firmly planted across my face. I had a meeting with him tomorrow.

I turned to my sister, who was also manning the dim sum station because she needs help justifying her purchases of way overpriced jeans, and asked, “Was that awkward?”

“Yes.” She shook her head plainly. Sometimes I wish my family wasn’t so frank.

The next day I had to tell New Boss as he would be in the meeting with Super Guy II.

“Oh my god, well did you explain to him that you were filling in for someone that got sick?”

At first I thought New Boss’s reaction was a bit disproportionate to what I was telling him. Okay, Super Guy II saw me wearing a tuxedo shirt and a bowtie¬†and next to no make-up serving hors d’oeuvres to his family and friends. It could have been a lot worse; I could have been attending the party as a paid escort to one of Super Guy II’s married uncles.

Still, I was embarrassed when it happened, and I knew enough that I had to tell New Boss about the chance meeting before our scheduled, afternoon meeting. So clearly there is something dirty about me catering and not just the part at the end of the night when we have to clean up. I wasn’t ready for this ancillary benefit of taking a higher profile position at a bigger law firm.

So, I gave it up. I don’t cater on the weekends anymore and I hate it. Partly because it reeks of elitism, but mostly because I had my eyes on a really nice pair of black, oversized Chanel’s.

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April 28, 2006

Only The Finest Fore Our Clients

Posted in Keeping Up With The Cients at 6:55 pm by devilwearsbrooksbrothers

My father loves golf and for as long as I can remember, has tried to make my sister, brother and I love it too.  Every year I vow that this is the year I will learn to love it; and every year, by hole seven or eight, I give up and spend the rest of the morning driving the cart and making educated guesses as to where my brother's ball landed.

So, last year when my boss asked me to be a beverage bitch for our firm's golf outing, I thought I had discovered the perfect solution.   Beverage bitch was everything I loved about the sport with none of the things I didn't, for instance, pretending to understand what my father means when he says things like "open up your club face a bit, kid."

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April 11, 2006

Hey batter, batter, batter.

Posted in Keeping Up With The Cients at 8:51 pm by devilwearsbrooksbrothers

Every spring we are forced to play several softball games with one of our clients. Maybe forced is a bit harsh, some of the attorneys enjoy it; unfortunately not enough to field a team. So, one spring afternoon an associate approached me about playing that evening. It would seem they were short players and hoping to get more girls involved. I would like to hope I was asked because it was convenient for me to run home and change, or because the powers that be knew I didn’t have kids and a husband and therefore responsibilities that called me home.

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