half-hour.”
“If you thought that, why are you here now?” he replies coolly.
I think Allen sounds outright bitter, but bitterness is not easily detected by upbeat, optimistic Leila. “We all thought we’d wait for you here,” she answers with a happy lilt to her voice, pulling up a bar stool. “Sue, babe,” Leila says, swiveling around to my direction, “I love your new blouse.”
Whatever further ideas Allen has as to competitiveness are battles to be left for another day.
People are buzzing about year-end bonuses, promotions, and pay raises. Some optimistically, some less so. It’s early November and apprehension is clearly weighing heavily on many. I’m calm, somewhat. My getting a bigger office and better support staff makes it safe to assume I’m not going to be demoted. Or canned.
As usual, Leila’s in an upbeat mood. Bill told her she’ll be getting good news. Though she isn’t sure about the specifics, Bill’s broad assurance is enough for her. “I can wait for the details,” she says, eyes twinkling in excitement. Geez. A child waiting for Santa to drop down the chimney. I manage to love her despite her souped-up optimism.
My stomach is never a hundred-percent settled. Whatever else happens to me in December is probably going to be positive, but I still have a restless feeling I can’t quite shake off. I want accolades. I want to win the firm’s award. No matter what I achieved in my earlier life, I was never noticed. I want to finally be acknowledged for doing things right.
Almost overnight the gossip and speculation has gone from the buzz of a few bees to the loud, pervasive sound of a swarm. People who haven’t spoken to me before are now asking me for my opinion as to what I think bonuses will be, who will be promoted, demoted, etc. I know better than to feel flattered. It’s not that anybody is fooled into thinking somehow I hold the cards to their fate. It’s more that they’re desperate to talk and I’m yet another ear. The nervousness of these new “friends” raises my own anxiety level so high that I bring extra-strong antiperspirant and Pepto-Bismol. Thoughts of reverting back to the brief yet courteous, “Hello, how are you’s?” make for tantalizing pipe dreams.
Despite my instinct to stay within my social comfort zone (which is to say, none at all), I decide since my client world is expanding, my personal life should too. I decide to accept Allen’s offer to go out with him, although I decided it won’t be to one of David’s events.
Allen is attractive enough, bright enough, and kind enough to be worth a romantic shot. But I’m not sure if he has enough going for him in any one of these categories to keep my interest. Still, I figure anybody who acts so sweet is worth a chance. I also have to admit that Allen offers a bonus prize, he can help me shake off my feelings for Jordan.
Taking the bull by the horns, I ask Allen if he’s still up to going out with me. I’m so stunned that I do this, I don’t immediately register his response.
“You finally caught on to my subtlety. Good.” He smiles. “I’d love to go on a date with you. When would you like to go? I’m free Saturday night, if that works.”
“Umm.”
“Oh, not good, huh? How about Sunday?”
“Sorry. Just thinking what would work. Saturday night would be great.”
“Would you like to see a movie? There are a few playing that look good, like this one I read about, Twisted Future. Does that work for you?”
Frankly I don’t know if Twisted Future will work out for me, but I think I’ll give it a shot. For the first time in years I have a date for a Saturday night.
My mother’s more excited about the date than I am. To me, the most exciting part has already happened—my taking the initiative to ask a guy out. My mother rakes me over hot coals with so many questions I’m ready to burst from the relentless, intense heat of interrogation.
“Is he cute?”
“Cute
“If you thought that, why are you here now?” he replies coolly.
I think Allen sounds outright bitter, but bitterness is not easily detected by upbeat, optimistic Leila. “We all thought we’d wait for you here,” she answers with a happy lilt to her voice, pulling up a bar stool. “Sue, babe,” Leila says, swiveling around to my direction, “I love your new blouse.”
Whatever further ideas Allen has as to competitiveness are battles to be left for another day.
People are buzzing about year-end bonuses, promotions, and pay raises. Some optimistically, some less so. It’s early November and apprehension is clearly weighing heavily on many. I’m calm, somewhat. My getting a bigger office and better support staff makes it safe to assume I’m not going to be demoted. Or canned.
As usual, Leila’s in an upbeat mood. Bill told her she’ll be getting good news. Though she isn’t sure about the specifics, Bill’s broad assurance is enough for her. “I can wait for the details,” she says, eyes twinkling in excitement. Geez. A child waiting for Santa to drop down the chimney. I manage to love her despite her souped-up optimism.
My stomach is never a hundred-percent settled. Whatever else happens to me in December is probably going to be positive, but I still have a restless feeling I can’t quite shake off. I want accolades. I want to win the firm’s award. No matter what I achieved in my earlier life, I was never noticed. I want to finally be acknowledged for doing things right.
Almost overnight the gossip and speculation has gone from the buzz of a few bees to the loud, pervasive sound of a swarm. People who haven’t spoken to me before are now asking me for my opinion as to what I think bonuses will be, who will be promoted, demoted, etc. I know better than to feel flattered. It’s not that anybody is fooled into thinking somehow I hold the cards to their fate. It’s more that they’re desperate to talk and I’m yet another ear. The nervousness of these new “friends” raises my own anxiety level so high that I bring extra-strong antiperspirant and Pepto-Bismol. Thoughts of reverting back to the brief yet courteous, “Hello, how are you’s?” make for tantalizing pipe dreams.
Despite my instinct to stay within my social comfort zone (which is to say, none at all), I decide since my client world is expanding, my personal life should too. I decide to accept Allen’s offer to go out with him, although I decided it won’t be to one of David’s events.
Allen is attractive enough, bright enough, and kind enough to be worth a romantic shot. But I’m not sure if he has enough going for him in any one of these categories to keep my interest. Still, I figure anybody who acts so sweet is worth a chance. I also have to admit that Allen offers a bonus prize, he can help me shake off my feelings for Jordan.
Taking the bull by the horns, I ask Allen if he’s still up to going out with me. I’m so stunned that I do this, I don’t immediately register his response.
“You finally caught on to my subtlety. Good.” He smiles. “I’d love to go on a date with you. When would you like to go? I’m free Saturday night, if that works.”
“Umm.”
“Oh, not good, huh? How about Sunday?”
“Sorry. Just thinking what would work. Saturday night would be great.”
“Would you like to see a movie? There are a few playing that look good, like this one I read about, Twisted Future. Does that work for you?”
Frankly I don’t know if Twisted Future will work out for me, but I think I’ll give it a shot. For the first time in years I have a date for a Saturday night.
My mother’s more excited about the date than I am. To me, the most exciting part has already happened—my taking the initiative to ask a guy out. My mother rakes me over hot coals with so many questions I’m ready to burst from the relentless, intense heat of interrogation.
“Is he cute?”
“Cute
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