Transplanted Life
Friday, January 09, 2004
End O The Week
Well, everyone's back from vacation and nothing seems too strange at the office. By which I mean, I didn't catch anyone acting like They Knew, or acting in a way other than how they had always acted. In some ways, it's almost like that thing in the ladies' room never happened. Sure, two and a half weeks isn't forever, and maybe this Shelley is just trying to make me sweat, to make sure she's got the upper hand next time we meet. It's not the worst plan ever; I've been more or less stymied in any attempt to narrow down the list of the several hundred thousand women in the Boston area I'm dealing with. And what do I tell her if we do meet up again? I just don't know.

In the meantime, I just live Michelle's life. There are some times when I feel guilty about times like right now, where I'm doing some small web searches, but mostly just killing time between a workday which an outside observer would find utterly normal and something purely social. I justify it to myself by remembering the folks I've known since college who have just burned themselves out by being too focused, or who got so obsessed that they couldn't see obvious things. But it's tough; I keep thinking that these are precious seconds that could be used trying to research any links members of Nataliya Tartakovsky's family might have to biotech companies.

In the meantime, a bunch of us are going to the Midnight movie at Coolidge tonight. I reminded Jen about it at lunch, she saw fit to remind Carter as we were getting back to the office, and then a bunch of people overheard it. I think Erik, Dimitri, Mark, Marcello, heck, practically every male employee under the age of 35 thought it sounded like a blast, and even Lizzie left a message on her husband's voice-mail to see if he wanted to come into town and maybe meet up with us there. I had to kind of laugh, because it's basically the same program that only five or six people would come to when it was in Allston, but the Coolidge Corner Theater is something of a brand name in Boston. I guess the midnight time is also sort of more appropriate, with a lot of people thinking they might want a few drinks in them before sitting down for what is being advertised as "possibly the greatest Monkey King movie ever".

I groaned a little inside when Maureen said she and some of her friends might come, but it's hardly the end of the world. She's backed off the attitude in the last week, especially after I've occasionally "translated" from technical to English for her. Not that she's been outright nice to me or anything, but she's at least smart enough to see I've got experience with this group of people she lacks. Who knows, maybe in a couple months' time she'll be friendly to the point where the only thing she does to rub me the wrong way is pretend she didn't act the bitch when we first met.

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