Administrating Days

Last Wednesday was Administrative Professionals Day. It used to be called Secretary Day till the Army of the Righteous Tweed Skirt with White Sneakers stood at the Gates of Coporateville and said "Hell no we're not getting you no coffee!" Now it's Administrative Professionals Day...and yes I do get coffee.

In fact I have a new secretary-like job starting last week. I was in crazy transition between the "Depression Office" and Unemployment. Then low and behold the same company I temp-ed for last Spring/Summer/Fall called me back in. I used to be a database maintainer for them, now I'm an Admin for one of their VP's. It's interesting. I'm used to working directly toward the goal of the Company. Even when I was just an Admin I was always doing work directly related to it. Now I maintain his office schedule and order him lunch. I know that aiding him aids the Company objective (which is of course make a ton of money for very little work) but I don't really feel like whether or not he gets fruit or chips with his sandwich is really all that important.

However, I did get a nice little bouquet of flowers on Wednesday and the VP's took the Admins in our Department out to lunch on Thursday. This wasn't really all the thrilling since I was the second youngest person there (only because Thursday was "Take Your Daughter or Son to Work Day" and one of the Admin's 15 year old daughter was there.)

((Incidentally that day also used to be called something else : "Take Your Daughter to Work Day" in an effort to help girls feel like they too could grow up and work outside of the home. It also used to be a Girl Scout only thing and I was a little surprised none of the girls were in full dress uniform. I always had to wear my uniform. The whole thing, including tie and knee high socks with those awful turn-your-feet-purple green tassel garters. And lets not get started on the beanie for brownies....))

Anyway I was the youngest person there, save the kid, and the most quiet. I don't have children so already half the conversation was out of my league. However at least I wasn't part of the league. The poor girl had to sit through her Mother's recounting of when she was into Barney. Which spurred my boss to tell of the time he once played Barney for a church thing. He thought that would endear him to the poor 15-year-old. I thought she was gonna stick her head in her fried rice.

And that's the other hazard of eating with those people. Fried Rice was their exotic Chinese food. I'm used to real exotic food. I like to try new things. More authentic the better. If it's spicy then let it be spicy. Bring it on, lets have fun. The people who live in my community however are more white bread and safe. When I mention sushi they look aghast at the thought of raw fish and eel.

Mmm, bring it.

Needless to say no one tried my chinese dish that day. It wasn't that crazy: Coconut Curry Vegetables and Tofu. The tofu scared them. They ate fried rice and lettuce wraps...without the sauce.

Ah well. Cest la vie yes?

In other news I am learning French...at least how to speak it. Still gearing up for Montreal. I ordered the CD lessons with Michel Thomas. It's great. Already I can form sentences and not just by rote. He's really very good. It's not a "I am a parrot and will say whatever you say" kinda system, and it's not complete immersion. I'm not good at immersion without being able to see peoples faces and gestures. If you point to a cat and say "chat" then I'll get it. But if I just hear "Cest Chat" I'm gonna say "Cest Dumb." Anyway this one he gives you a few words and points out that most English words are already French with a few different pronunciations. So already my vocabulary is pretty good. And I just add the few fillers which he introduces slowly. Poof, I'm speaking French. Now I still can't read and write in French, which won't help when we drive to Montreal and all the traffic signs are in French. But then I intend on using "Ju Dumb American" a lot.

There is another difference between myself and the people I work with. Everyone here thinks I'm their age...later 20's-mid 30's. Not 22. And they all have the same plans. They are all going on cruises for their vacations. I am driving with my husband in a little Miata to Canada. I can't imagine staying on a boat for days. Unless it was a sailboat or something. But just hanging out in a Hotel that you can't leave because there is thousands of miles of water all around. I grew up in that - It was called Hawaii - let me get out and GO somewhere. See something. Yes Montreal may not be as exotic at the Azoras or the Bahamas, but at least I'll be pounding the cobblestone pavement and mingling with new people. Apparently grouchy people who yell in French and greet in English. We've been trying to confirm our lodging reservations for awhile now. And we keep asking when is the best time to call them and speak on the phone, as opposed to the crazy email back and forth. In other words...WHEN DO YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE? They reply "Monseiur, Madam, you wait a lot yes...give us your credit card number again" "NO - I'LL DO IT OVER THE PHONE" "Yes yes, call us." "WHEN DO YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE." "We will pick up our phone when you have given us your credit card through the unsecured email and have spent the exact same amount on long distance calls as we intend to charge you for the entire two week stay...with added stuff in french." I'm sure it'll all be fine. But wait till that guy meets me in person. There is a reason you don't mess with Navy Wives.

Of course I'll wait to tell him what I think till 1) We've checked out and he no longer handles our sleeping area or breakfast and 2) I can fully express myself in French. Merde will play a great part.

I should end this with something profound...but I don't have anything. So...

AAAAHHHHHH I'm falling off a cliff AAAAHHHH

-Katy