Upon arriving at the Park Avenue office of my new employer, I reported to HR, was given an employee number, and had a small metal chip implanted in my left ear.
The reality is beginning to sink in: I now have an employee number. I've never had an employee number before, and I'm not sure if I like having an employee number. An employee number suggests anonymity, process, accountability, reporting and all the tedium that goes with it. But they do have Diet Sunkist here, (and all manner of exotic beverages that I don't even recognize). Maybe that makes things better?
Maybe. I came home last night feeling simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed. I was dog tired from all the smiling and suit-wearing, so Fauxhawk fixed me some delicious mussels diavola over linguine and I drank half a bottle of good champagne. I rarely have the good stuff lying around, but since I believe bubbly has medicinal qualities, I buy a lot of lovely, inexpensive prosecco like Zardetto for drinking at any old time. A cheap thrill can be had for $13, I assure you.
So sorry that I've been a bit quiet and broody around here lately. I realize that my blog has been sucking since I took over from my glorious guest-contributers (who blow me out of the water and that's why I love them). I guess I'm in a Period of Adjustment. I will be back in action as soon as I figure out how to fritter away my time at work with impunity.
Image: Coco Rocha by Solve Sundsbo for Numero (2007) via fotodecadent.
