I met up with my future employers for drinks. I'm not due to report to work until the middle of next month, and I don't think social invitations this early were customary. With the tanking markets and companies announcing job cuts, I suspected it was a pseudo elimination round.
I went to the bar early, hoping to make a good impression with my punctuality. They arrived after a few minutes. In suits and ties in the sweltering summer heat. I felt underdressed in my typical friday night shirt, jeans and loafers. I was Gap in Hugo Boss territory.
But I played the part. The corporate handshakes. The measured smiles. Hints of what I hear in the markets (read parroting CNN). Complementing the choice of red wine. Wit. My inner Sayuri/Hatsumomo has been repressed for so long that I was surprised it all came to me so easily.
Then it was over. I was warmly welcomed before we left, so I guess I'm still in the running towards becoming America's Next Top Model. Then the fatigue just hit me. I was drained from the meeting, but more so with the realization that no matter how hard I try to escape, this is the only life I know.