My office is, in my opinion, hands down one of the funniest and most enjoyable places to sit on my ass for 40ish hours a week. I have no complaints. In my marketing jargon I’ll say that our open office plan and signature 15-foot family-style work table exists to level the traditional workplace hierarchy and foster productivity via open communication among the entire team, and that’s true but… It also fosters us just torturing each other all day. No one is safe.
We’re an eclectic crew hailing from India, Thailand, China, Australia and the US (though American citizens are in the minority) and we like to eat. I learned quickly that a favorite pastime of my international colleagues is to lie to close-minded Americans about stereotypical stories from their homelands and see if we fall for it and also make us sample treats from around the world. (If you’re wondering, I fall for and eat everything that’s presented to me.)
For example, my boss told me he used to ride an elephant to school in Delhi and it wasn’t until after I told everyone else that he did that he informed me he was just seeing if I had idiotic romanticized notions of India in my head. For the record, I do.
Anyway, yesterday I’m sitting there just minding my business and (as is standard) a treat appears on my notebook. Blindly, I start eating. Not bad, not great… the weird little black balls are just the thing to mindlessly eat with abandon while I type away and look productive. And suddenly, an instant message from my in-office confidante: “I think he’s feeding you Indian laxatives, Katie.”
And it’s true, I think. Fatafat Indian digestive pills. Check, mate. My move.
Other than being tortured at work, this is what I’m up to…
My friend Kseniya’s mom won Miley tickets at work so obviously we went straight to Forever 21 and H&M to stock up on leotards and neon bras for the occasion. In the end it was all for naught. In the ultimate act of just being Miley, the signer canceled the show 15 minutes prior to opening. As the oldest ones there by at least 12 years, we were unfazed. My friend Theoden called for a quote for The Observer and you can read that reaction here: Miley Cyrus cancels Charlotte show at last minute
If you think cat people are weird, I invite you to drop by next year’s Pet Palooza and tell me dog people are not WAY WORSE. Ever the cat lady (clearly) but never one to miss out on an opportunity to hang out with hundreds and hundreds of animals (many wearing sunglasses), I shamelessly borrowed my ex-boyfriends dog and took her to the Humane Society’s annual Pet Palooza. I felt like it was important to bring a dog because otherwise I’d be like that creeper hanging out at the playground without a kid. No one wants that weirdo around.
My shopping needs this week ranged from a leotard for the Miley concert on Monday to a formal dress for a black tie event on Wednesday. The spectrum between those two outfits left me flailing for options and resulted in haphazard, misguided impulse shopping. My favorite kind. I did finally find a formal dress (for $25 at a totally age-inappropriate store that I haven’t entered since high school). Good enough is good enough.
C-A-T-S CATS CATS CATS
Clearly I hate sports but in a wild twist of fate I filled out my first ever March Madness bracket and won in my office. (The name of my bracket was “I hate sports?”) I just blindly clicked through the form making sure that I had Kentucky as my final winner because that’s where I was born and is the team my family lives and dies for each season. After Miley canceled the show last night I met up with my brother to offer moral support as they unfortunately lost to UCONN.
That’s what happening in my world. Anybody else miss Miley last night?