LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to remember to have fun today — not that you should have much trouble doing so! Your mind is absorbing new information at quite a clip, and you should be able to find new ways to enjoy life.
Laura’s Log:
Turns out I can let go of all that info in my head about Ferris wheels and goat petting farms. By 9:15 yesterday morning, there wasn’t a partner to be found on the floor. They were all convening in the conference room, throwing havoc in the planned meeting agenda for the day. First, Janice was summoned to make an appearance. Then, Derrick. Janice’s session lasted five minutes; Derrick’s, ten times that. When he left, he was flanked by Bryson Byers and Steven Aguilar as he headed straight for the elevator. Bryson boarded with Derrick and the Big, Bad Wolf did not return.
The meeting in the conference room continued another forty-five minutes. By then, the office buzz was palpable. “What did you do to Derrick?” Carmen Liu asked me. She was all sparkly eyed and it looked like she wanted to hug me.
“Nothing,” I answered in complete honesty.
“Right,” Carmen said, not buying it. “I just want you to know, you’re my hero.” She walked away, a skip in her step.
When I grabbed a coffee refill in the lunchroom, several employees were taking a prolonged coffee break, taking advantage of the partners’ emergency session and gossiping over Derrick Matthews. Todd, an obnoxious intern who was usually preoccupied with Tweeting, loudly clapped when he saw me. “We should call you Dorothy,” he said cryptically.
All eyes were on me. “Huh?”
“It’s like your office desk got sucked up in a dust devil and flattened Derrick when it came back down. Ding dong, the dick is dead!”
I quickly returned to my desk. A plain IKEA-variety desk with no wings, no sails. The last thing I wanted was a reputation that I’d taken down Derrick Matthews. I’d seen enough news stories about employees getting the boot and then coming back to settle the score.
At 11:30, my presence was request in the conference room. By then, only Bryson, Barry and Monica Tremont, the firm’s only female partner, were still present. She’s the one who spoke. “We have seen the work memo Derrick Matthews gave you, outlining an assignment with a deadline set for this afternoon. I can say on behalf of the entire firm that the task was…inappropriate. Obviously, it is unfortunate that you had to experience such a…an unusual task at any point with us, but particularly in light of the fact that you are a relatively new hire.”
Barry butted in: “That assignment is dead. You will not report to Derrick in any capacity from now on. Should that change, it would only happen after a careful review, including a discussion with you.”
Monica took over once again. It seemed she desperately wanted to make the next announcement. “Derrick has been undergoing a great deal of stress recently. For that reason, he is taking an indefinite leave of absence.” As formal as she wanted to come across, I saw the corners of her mouth curve upward. Size and status notwithstanding, there were happy Munchkins everywhere.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
AS WE KAYAKED IN FALSE CREEK, I SAW THE KID RETURN TO TRAVIS’ FACE. THE GOOD KID. GOD, I WISH SARA HAD BEEN THERE. HE LAUGHED CRUELLY (YET APPROPRIATELY) AS I ALMOST ROLLED MY BOAT WHEN I TRIED TO SCARE OFF A DOMESTICATED SEA GULL THAT KEPT WANTING TO MATE W/ME OR FIND A WAY TO GET THE TUNA SANDWICHES OUT FROM THE BACKBACK I’D STOWED. TRAVIS OFFERED TO RACE W/ME TO A BUOY NEAR SCIENCE WORLD. UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, HE’D BE BEGGING ME TO GO IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. HE EVEN TALKED ABOUT US MAYBE GOING TO THE BOATHOUSE CABIN ON THE SUNSHINE COAST AGAIN THIS SUMMER. THAT HAD BEEN A WEEKEND FOR JUST TRAVIS & ME 4 YRS AGO. THOUGHT HE’D FORGOTTEN…OR AT LEAST WANTED TO FORGET.
HE HAD FUN LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT THE NO-SHOW CANUCKS WHO MAY AS WELL HAVE DEFAULTED LAST NITE’S GAME TO THE SHARKS. AFTER, HE ASKED TO USE MY ROOM TO CALL HIS MOM. THE CONVERSATION ONLY LASTED 5 MIN, BUT I’M GUESSING IT WAS 295 SECONDS LONGER THAN ANYTHING HE’D SAID TO HER IN THE PAST 3 MONTHS. WHEN HE HANDED OFF THE PHONE TO ME, SHE SAID, “GOOD GOD, WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE W/MY SON? WHERE’S THE SNARKY, INSUFFERABLE TEENAGER THAT I KNOW?”
“DO YOU REALLY WANT AN ANSWER?” AND SHE LAUGHED. SARA LAUGHED! SURE, HOCKEY WAS ON MY MIND, BUT I WAS BATTING 1.000!
THIS MORNING WE STOPPED BY THE VANCOUVER ROWING CLUB & SIGNED UP FOR THE TUES/THURS EVENING SWEEP PROGRAM FOR JUNE. TRAVIS SEEMS PSYCHED. HELL, I AM TOO!
Showing posts with label Science World. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Science World. Show all posts
Friday, April 9, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
NURSING WOUNDS
February 9, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Revisit an old injury today -- emotional or physical. You should find yourself better equipped to handle it, and even to heal it, but you may find that you have to move through some difficult territory first.
Laura’s Log:
Coffee with Tamara this morning. I hopped on the Canada Line and met her downtown as she took an extended coffee break. Who knows what important meetings she rescheduled? When you’re newly dating, you’re dying to know what your friends think.
“He’s really nice.”
Apparently, I shouldn’t have said that. It was just my opener, but Tamara pounced. You’d think I’d said he was a cross between Donald Trump (without the money) and a pile of horse manure.
“See, that’s why I put off having you meet him. You always look for the worst.” Ouch. “No wonder you’re single.” Owphh. “I don’t know why I’ve kept you as a friend all these years. Pity, I guess.” And TKO.
“I said he was nice.”
She started to cry. Wail, actually. Tamara always likes to be noticed. The woman beside us took her mug to the counter and asked for a to-go cup. Wish I’d had that option.
I sat and waited. Sipped my coffee. The dash of cinnamon added flavor. Got up and grabbed a wad of napkins. Tamara wound down to sobbing and I gently eased back into the conversation. “What’s going on?”
“He wants to take a job in Edmonton. Edmonton!” Poor city. She said it like it was a cross between Chernobyl and, well, a pile of horse manure.
“Does he want you to move with him?”
“He hasn’t even asked!” And Round 2 of wailing.
I managed to convince her we should step outside, walk a little and enjoy the beautiful day. The lady behind the counter telepathed an earnest “Thank you.” After another hour of weeping, recovering and weeping again, Tamara hugged me. “Sorry ’bout what I said. You’re a good friend. The best.”
Yeah. After all these years, I was quite familiar with Tamara’s lash-and-burn tactics. They still wounded, but the recovery was quicker.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
MAYBE I’M NOT CUT OUT TO JOG ANYMORE. I HAD MY 2ND GO AT AN EARLY MORNING RUN & IT WAS WORSE THAN THE 1ST. COLDER, TO START WITH. HAD IT IN MY HEAD THAT WEARING GLOVES WHILE JOGGING WAS THE SIGN OF A WUSS. LOSING THREE DIGITS TO FROSTBITE MIGHT MAKE A MANLY TALE, BUT IT’S DAMN STUPID, TOO. WILL TRY TO PICK UP A PAIR LATER TODAY—AND NOT THE OMNIPRESENT CANADIAN OLYMPIC MITTS.
CONSTANTLY RUBBING ONE’S HANDS TOGETHER ISN’T STANDARD RUNNING FORM. NEITHER IS LIMPING. SADLY, MY LEFT KNEE GAVE OUT SOONER THAN LAST WEEK. I HAD TO HOBBLE BACK FROM SCIENCE WORLD—OR WHATEVER THE RUSSIANS ARE CALLING IT AS THEIR OLYMPIC SITE. SAW THE GUY IN THE WALKER AGAIN. NEVER MANAGED TO CATCH HIM.
FIGURE I’VE GAINED INSTEAD OF LOSING THIS WEEK, THANKS TO THE SUPER BOWL PARTY. SURE, I VOMITED APLENTY, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE I’M REACHING THE 7TH OR 8TH MONTH OF PREGNANCY. IF I CAN’T RUN, THEN WHAT? DON’T THINK I CAN ROUND UP THE OLD GANG FOR TOUCH FOOTBALL THESE DAYS. BIKING? THE COLD’S GOTTA FEEL EVEN WORSE ON WHEELS.
I’LL TRY STRETCHING MORE. HOT TUB THE KNEE TONIGHT. BUY A BRACE. EVEN IN PAIN, JOGGING BEATS SLAPPING ON A PAIR OF RUNNERS AND RACE-WALKING AROUND DOWNTOWN AT NOON WHILE IN A BUSINESS SUIT.
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Revisit an old injury today -- emotional or physical. You should find yourself better equipped to handle it, and even to heal it, but you may find that you have to move through some difficult territory first.
Laura’s Log:
Coffee with Tamara this morning. I hopped on the Canada Line and met her downtown as she took an extended coffee break. Who knows what important meetings she rescheduled? When you’re newly dating, you’re dying to know what your friends think.
“He’s really nice.”
Apparently, I shouldn’t have said that. It was just my opener, but Tamara pounced. You’d think I’d said he was a cross between Donald Trump (without the money) and a pile of horse manure.
“See, that’s why I put off having you meet him. You always look for the worst.” Ouch. “No wonder you’re single.” Owphh. “I don’t know why I’ve kept you as a friend all these years. Pity, I guess.” And TKO.
“I said he was nice.”
She started to cry. Wail, actually. Tamara always likes to be noticed. The woman beside us took her mug to the counter and asked for a to-go cup. Wish I’d had that option.
I sat and waited. Sipped my coffee. The dash of cinnamon added flavor. Got up and grabbed a wad of napkins. Tamara wound down to sobbing and I gently eased back into the conversation. “What’s going on?”
“He wants to take a job in Edmonton. Edmonton!” Poor city. She said it like it was a cross between Chernobyl and, well, a pile of horse manure.
“Does he want you to move with him?”
“He hasn’t even asked!” And Round 2 of wailing.
I managed to convince her we should step outside, walk a little and enjoy the beautiful day. The lady behind the counter telepathed an earnest “Thank you.” After another hour of weeping, recovering and weeping again, Tamara hugged me. “Sorry ’bout what I said. You’re a good friend. The best.”
Yeah. After all these years, I was quite familiar with Tamara’s lash-and-burn tactics. They still wounded, but the recovery was quicker.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
MAYBE I’M NOT CUT OUT TO JOG ANYMORE. I HAD MY 2ND GO AT AN EARLY MORNING RUN & IT WAS WORSE THAN THE 1ST. COLDER, TO START WITH. HAD IT IN MY HEAD THAT WEARING GLOVES WHILE JOGGING WAS THE SIGN OF A WUSS. LOSING THREE DIGITS TO FROSTBITE MIGHT MAKE A MANLY TALE, BUT IT’S DAMN STUPID, TOO. WILL TRY TO PICK UP A PAIR LATER TODAY—AND NOT THE OMNIPRESENT CANADIAN OLYMPIC MITTS.
CONSTANTLY RUBBING ONE’S HANDS TOGETHER ISN’T STANDARD RUNNING FORM. NEITHER IS LIMPING. SADLY, MY LEFT KNEE GAVE OUT SOONER THAN LAST WEEK. I HAD TO HOBBLE BACK FROM SCIENCE WORLD—OR WHATEVER THE RUSSIANS ARE CALLING IT AS THEIR OLYMPIC SITE. SAW THE GUY IN THE WALKER AGAIN. NEVER MANAGED TO CATCH HIM.
FIGURE I’VE GAINED INSTEAD OF LOSING THIS WEEK, THANKS TO THE SUPER BOWL PARTY. SURE, I VOMITED APLENTY, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE I’M REACHING THE 7TH OR 8TH MONTH OF PREGNANCY. IF I CAN’T RUN, THEN WHAT? DON’T THINK I CAN ROUND UP THE OLD GANG FOR TOUCH FOOTBALL THESE DAYS. BIKING? THE COLD’S GOTTA FEEL EVEN WORSE ON WHEELS.
I’LL TRY STRETCHING MORE. HOT TUB THE KNEE TONIGHT. BUY A BRACE. EVEN IN PAIN, JOGGING BEATS SLAPPING ON A PAIR OF RUNNERS AND RACE-WALKING AROUND DOWNTOWN AT NOON WHILE IN A BUSINESS SUIT.
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