You are never so helpless than when you are at the end of a 99 person line that won't move. And your plane is taking off in 30 minutes.
I can't tell you how many times I relied on the mercy and kindness of strangers during this most horrendous of days, trying to board the first flight to Boston, being told one thing by the fat man behind the United Airways counter and then being told another by the cranky black woman behind the Delta counter.
"You're not on this flight."
What?! But the man at United Airways told me I was?! Are you saying I dragged my ass down here at 4am this morning for nothing?! And there was no reason for me to stand in line for an hour?!
That's when I realized that standing in line is for sissies. Desparate times call for desparate measures. I became a serial cutter.
I used the short first-class lines despite my economy-class status. I sought out the single, middle-aged man at the front of lines, put on my most desperate girl-in-distress look, and played on that sense of comic-book heroism that makes every boy want to be a fireman at some point in his life: I'm so sorry, but my flight was cancelled last night and I'm supposed to be on this flight that boards in 15 minutes, would you mind if I cut in here? Sorry, sorry, thank you, thank you, thank you soooo much.
Finally, the cramped plane touched down in Boston at 11:30am. I went directly to my workshop training that had started without me, looking and feeling like dog poop.
Sunday, June 10: Recovering
Had another workshop training session today. Finally had time to relax for about 3 hours that evening. Unfortunately 2 of those "free hours" was spent preparing for my very first day of TA-ing, tomorrow.
Here's team Summer 2007 Negotiation Workshop TA Staff:
Monday, June 11: What?!
Today was a blur of activity. The Negotiation Workshop has lawyers, diplomats, and business professionals from all over the world. In my class alone there were 3 people from Brazil, one from Denmark, two from Australia, one from South Korea, one from China, one from Portugal, and even one from the great nation of Canada.
The 16 students in my class ranged in age from late twenties, to late fifties, and all of them made me wonder what the heck I was doing in front of the class when they had more experience and expertise about negotiation in each of their pinkies than I had in my whole body.
Here's me at a cocktail reception wearing my uniform de riguer for the week:
Tuesday, June 12: Just shoot me now
The stamina required for the workshop is herculean. It's an all day summer-camp logistical nightmare. Hand out this simulation packet now, take names for another simulation the next day, review the case using two exercises, make sure a class list is distributed, etc. And that's just the morning.
The workshop is all day, 8am-5pm and then the teaching staff reviews from 5pm-8pm. And then yours truly goes home and collapses in front of the TV for an hour while the technicolor commercials wash over me like intense light-therapy waves. And then I prep for a few hours and then it's straight to bed.
Wednesday, June 13: I hate her
There is a woman in my class who hates me.
Since the first time I looked into her beady little eyes, I knew she was going to be a troublemaker. And you know what? She was. She was rude, disrespectful, talked over me when I addressed the class.
In retrospect I should have firmly told her to raise her hand if she wants to talk, otherwise, be quiet! But at the time I just meekly watched her destroy my authority and credibility with the class and wondered again: what am I doing here?
Thursday, June 14: Exhaustion
More of the same. I wish my supervisors would say encouraging things to me to bouy my flagging spirit but they are tight lipped with the praise. One of them gave me feedback and said what sounded to me like some back-handed compliment: You have good potential.
Let me tell you the subtext of that evaluation: You suck right now.
Friday, June 15: I hate everyone
Tired. Insulted. Plucked of authority. Sad to leave Michael after barely seeing him this week. If I were a flavor of Lay's Potato chips, it would be Salt and Vinegar, except replace salt with piss.
Saturday, June 16: Retail Therapy
Shopped to my little heart's content. Bought a jacket, two pairs of khakis, and a black work blouse. The khakis were 50% off which makes me beam even now when I think about it. They are so essential in the "smart casual" work environment of a SF law firm.
Sunday, June 17: Back to the Bay
Reluctantly boarded a plane back to California, and had a layover at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. I was extremely impressed by DFW.
Shiny, clean, new. It boasted several namebrand shops: L'Occitaine, Mont Blanc, Fossil, Brookstone, etc. The billboards said: the DFW terminal is larger than Manhattan. What?! I kind of believe it. There was a Grand Hyatt attached directly to the terminal. Imagine that! You don't even have to leave the airport to get to your hotel room!!!! That's convenience!
It was father's day so I hopped right off the plane to join the fam for dinner at a restaurant literally one block away from the house I grew up in. This humble house was my abode from age 6 to 19 and it felt wierd to revisit it. (My bedroom had the window on the right).
As my mom snapped this picture of me, the current dwellers rushed outside and demanded to know what the heck we were doing in front of their house. My mom explained that we used to live here and said something about how the house blesses the residents with good fortune (she definitely let slip the H-bomb).
Leave it to my mom to be superstitous, superficial, AND superfluous, all in one breath!
6 comments:
Wow, what a week! Some of it definitely sounded kind of rough...but khakis 50% off! That's quite the find. And I liked your suit. Anyway, it was GREAT to see you today Christina! We have to do that again soon.
What's the H-bomb?
wow, what a rundown! :) Good to "catch up" with you over le blog. :) Sounds like a crazed time. Are things settling down for you finally?
I miss you!
Hey Tammy - It was so great to hang out with you! We will definitely keep it up.
The H-bomb is the name of the school I go to. Some editorial in some major newspaper referred to it as the H-bomb because it makes people feel uncomfortable when you drop it. Which is why I try not to. But oblique references sound pretenious too. You can't win really.
Remember when we slept in the pit in your house for your one birthday party?
You only had a single birthday party?
It's sad but true. I had one spectacular sleepover birthday party and no others. And as Peg says, we slept in the "pit." And told ghost stories during the bewitching hour (and watched Innerspace!) ha ha ha ha. Oh yeah, and played ping-pong.
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