Newsflash!
The Mac tech doesn’t have blond hair! Normally he wears this little baseball cap that emphasizes the Tintinesque shape of his face and glasses, so I’ve never actually seen the hair till today.
I have received many other intimacies, however. Or should I say, endearments. If memory does not fail me, I am “a woman after his heart” and have been called “honey,” “sweetheart” (this by more than just him, I should note), and as of yesterday, “doll.” The last one is my favorite, maybe because Guy Friend #1 calls me that, it has this nicely 40s ring to it … and that’s how Les Paul signed my autograph book.
If nothing else, all this interoffice friendliness must surely hark back to The Ad Co’s big 60s business days. I mean, they still have the freakin’ ash trays in the bathroom! For numerous male employees to still freely converse with us women (or at least me) by use of such monikers just maintains the otherwise-defunct business protocol of the company’s swingin’ heyday … right?
But seriously, if working here was like an episode of Blind Date, there’d be a dinging-bell and counter for every time I got called “doll” or “sweetheart.” I’d really like to see the count by now.
Then again, I was wearing my hair in braids by day’s end yesterday. Judging by last night’s response from Hippie the Groper, this is a good look for me indeed. So inspiring, in fact, that Hippie proclaims himself now on the mission of setting me up with a friend. Who is a good, solid Christian — not to mention a Christian he actually respects … is a “really talented” playah in some band — I mean, a musician — and currently in med school. Apparently that school is out of the country somewhere … but hell, with qualifications like that, who cares where he lives, right?
Wow, a former date as matchmaker. An interesting twist, I must say. Maybe good things really do come from letting my love life be fully God’s responsibility. Oh, I didn’t tell you about that yet? Well … hang on for Stages of Broadway, pt. 5. Coming very soon.
I have received many other intimacies, however. Or should I say, endearments. If memory does not fail me, I am “a woman after his heart” and have been called “honey,” “sweetheart” (this by more than just him, I should note), and as of yesterday, “doll.” The last one is my favorite, maybe because Guy Friend #1 calls me that, it has this nicely 40s ring to it … and that’s how Les Paul signed my autograph book.
If nothing else, all this interoffice friendliness must surely hark back to The Ad Co’s big 60s business days. I mean, they still have the freakin’ ash trays in the bathroom! For numerous male employees to still freely converse with us women (or at least me) by use of such monikers just maintains the otherwise-defunct business protocol of the company’s swingin’ heyday … right?
But seriously, if working here was like an episode of Blind Date, there’d be a dinging-bell and counter for every time I got called “doll” or “sweetheart.” I’d really like to see the count by now.
Then again, I was wearing my hair in braids by day’s end yesterday. Judging by last night’s response from Hippie the Groper, this is a good look for me indeed. So inspiring, in fact, that Hippie proclaims himself now on the mission of setting me up with a friend. Who is a good, solid Christian — not to mention a Christian he actually respects … is a “really talented” playah in some band — I mean, a musician — and currently in med school. Apparently that school is out of the country somewhere … but hell, with qualifications like that, who cares where he lives, right?
Wow, a former date as matchmaker. An interesting twist, I must say. Maybe good things really do come from letting my love life be fully God’s responsibility. Oh, I didn’t tell you about that yet? Well … hang on for Stages of Broadway, pt. 5. Coming very soon.
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