Let me preface this entry by saying this: I love my work, for the most part. But if you don’t have something about your job that is utterly and completely ridiculous, you are lying to yourself. Especially at the entry-level – dear God – something inane happens on a daily basis.
I was asked today to arrange lunch for an important meeting with our largest client-which-I-will-not-divulge-here-but-come-on-you-totally-know-who. Honestly, I have no problem doing this, as this is the view from the bottom of the totem pole. While salivating over the menu, I shot an e-mail and PDF’d menu to the executive assistant of our client, who, for the purposes of this entry, will be called Mr.Big-Wig. Mr. Big-Wig was in a meeting, and couldn’t attend to what was my whole reason for being this morning: getting a lunch order for someone who makes my entire salary one day. A few hours later, the executive assistant (which has to be +1 level on the proverbial totem pole, am I right?) sent me Mr. Big-Wig’s order, which was the Quiche of the Day, to my surprise (I figured he’d be more, soup-and-sammie combo). That was it? But, but – he needs to decide what side he wants!
Question: How do you not feel like a complete TOOL while continually hitting the “refresh” button on your e-mail, waiting for some girl you’ve never even met to reply with “Fruit” or “Salad”?
See, I didn’t have time. Oh yes, I put on the big-girl decision-making pants and decided that he would have fruit, and yes, when I had to choose from two quiches, I picked the more masculine, sausage variety over the vegetarian, which basically is just me forming unfounded judgments about what a man in corporate america would order for lunch,but let’s face it, I’m not really caring at this point about it, or my grammar for that matter, and this run-on sentence is halfway around the block by now, but damn, do I love me some commas.
Katie and I picked up the orders and I anally checked to make sure nothing was left out and we trotted back to the office. Oh yeah, we trotted back to the office to be told that Mr. Big-Wig wasn’t making it to the meeting today, which was kind of stressing to all parties involved.
Things I Could Have Said:
“I’m sorry to hear that! It must be really stressful.”
“That’s too bad! I knew this meeting was important to you.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?”
What I Actually Said:
“Can I have his quiche?”
(Which, as Katie put it, was a “fat kid moment.”)
If this isn’t the fast track to promotion, I don’t know what is.
