Everyone Worth Knowing. Lauren Weisberger
‘I quit my job,’ I announced merrily, holding up my red plastic Solo cup.
‘Cheers!’ they all called while clinking cups.
‘It’s about time you left that nightmare,’ Janie said.
Vika agreed. ‘Yes, yes, your boss will not be missed, of this I am sure?’ she asked in her sweet but odd accent.
‘No, that’s for sure, I won’t be missing Aaron.’
Courtney poured her second drink in ten minutes and said, ‘Yeah, but what are we going to do for a quote of the day now? Can someone forward them to you?’
At the second meeting I’d attended, I’d begun sharing the joy and wisdom of Aaron’s inspirational quotes with the entire group. After introductory remarks, I’d read the best one from the previous few weeks and we’d all crack up. Lately, the girls had begun coming prepared with their own anti-quotes, nasty or sarcastic or mean-spirited little epigrams that I might take back to the office and share with Aaron, if I were so inclined.
‘Which reminds me,’ I announced grandly, pulling a printout from my bag, ‘I received this one a mere three days before I left, and it’s one of my all-time favorites. It says, “Teamwork: Simply stated, it is less me and more we.” That, my friends, is insightful.’
‘Wow.’ Janie sighed. ‘Thanks for sharing. I’m definitely going to try to figure out how to have less me and more we in my life.’
‘Me, too,’ said Alex. ‘That goes nicely with a little quote I recently stumbled upon. It’s from our friend Gore Vidal. “Whenever a friend succeeds, a little something in me dies.’’ ’
We all laughed until Janie interrupted with a rather shocking announcement. ‘Speaking of bosses … I, uh, I had an incident with mine.’
‘An incident?’ Jill asked. ‘You didn’t tell me anything!’
‘Well, it just happened last night. You were asleep when I got home, and I’m only seeing you for the first time now.’
‘I’d like you to explain the “incident,” please,’ Vika said with raised eyebrows.
‘We, uh, sort of hooked up,’ she said with a coy smile.
‘What?’ Jill was shrieking at this point, staring at her sister with a combination of horror and delight. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, he asked if I wanted to grab dinner after we pitched a new potential client. We went for sushi and then drinks …’
‘And then?’ I prompted.
‘And then more drinks, and then the next thing I know, I’m naked on his couch.’
‘Oh, my God.’ Jill began to rock back and forth.
Janie looked at her. ‘Why are you so upset? It’s not such a big deal.’
‘Well, I just don’t think it’s going to do great things for your career,’ she replied.
‘Well then, you obviously don’t know how talented I can be in some areas, do you?’ Janie smiled wickedly.
‘Did you sleep with him?’ Alex asked. ‘Please say yes. That would really make my whole night. Investment banker Bette up and quits her job with no backup plan and you screw your boss? I’d feel like I was finally starting to have some influence around here.’
‘Well, I don’t know if I’d say we actually had sex,’ Janie said.
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Alex asked. ‘You either did or you didn’t.’
‘Well, if he weren’t my boss, I probably wouldn’t have even counted it. Just in and out a few times – nothing major.’
‘That’s more than I’ve done in two years,’ I said.
‘Interesting. What I’m wondering is just how many other guys fall into the not-major-enough-to-count category. Janie? Wanna fill us in?’ Courtney asked. Alex returned from her fridge-and-hot-plate kitchen with a tray of shot glasses, each filled to the brim.
‘Why even bother to talk about The Very Bad Boy when we have our own very bad girl right here?’ she said and passed the glasses around the room.
We were off and running.
Another three weeks slipped by in much the same manner as my first month of unemployment, made only slightly less pleasurable by the daily phone calls from Will and my parents, who claimed to just be ‘checking in.’ Here’s how it usually went:
Mom: Hi, honey. Any new leads today?
Me: Hi, Mom. I’m pounding the pavement. There’s a lot that sounds promising, but I haven’t picked the perfect thing yet. How are you and Dad?
Mom: We’re fine, dear, just worried about you. You remember Mrs Adelman, right? Her daughter is the head of fund-raising for Earth Watch and she said you’re welcome to call her, that they could always use more dedicated, qualified people.
Me: Mmm, that’s great. I’ll look into that. [Channel flip to ABC as Oprah begins.] I better get moving. I have some more cover letters to write.
Mom: Cover letters? Oh, of course. I don’t want to keep you. Good luck, honey. I know you’ll find something soon.
Aside from those seven painful minutes every day when I insisted I was fine, the job search was fine, and I was sure I’d find something soon, everything actually was terrific. Bob Barker, Millington, an apartment full of trashy paperbacks, and four bags of Red Hots a day kept me company as I languidly surfed online job sites, making the occasional printout and the even more occasional application. I sure didn’t feel depressed, but it was kind of hard to judge, especially since I rarely left my building and thought of little besides how to maintain my current lifestyle without ever getting another job. You hear people all the time making statements like ‘I was only out of work for a week and I went crazy! I mean, I’m just the kind of person who needs to be productive, needs to make a contribution, you know?’ Nope, I didn’t know. My cash flow was in jeopardy, of course, but I figured something would turn up eventually, or I’d throw myself at the mercy of Will and Simon. It would be silly to waste time worrying when I could be learning genuinely valuable life lessons from Dr Phil.
Collecting the mail killed a solid ten minutes each day. Although I knew that the mail came at two each afternoon, I usually wasn’t motivated to fetch it until late evening, when I would grab the armful of bills and catalogs and bolt for the elevator. Thirteenth floor. Unlucky thirteen. When I’d hesitated before seeing the apartment for the first time, the broker had sneered, saying something like, ‘What, do you believe in astrology, too? You can’t seriously be concerned about something so ridiculous … not when it’s got central air-conditioning at this price!’ And since it seemed to be a distinctly New York phenomenon to be abused by the people you paid to perform a service, I’d immediately stammered out an apology and signed on the dotted line.
Today, luckily, my mailbox contained the latest issue of In Touch, which would occupy at least another hour. After retrieving it, I unlocked the door, scanned the floor for potential water bugs, and braced for the usual hysterics from Millington. She always seemed convinced that this was the day I would abandon her forever and met my homecoming with a frenzy of wheezing, snorting, sniffing, jumping, sneezing, and submissive peeing so frantic that I wondered if she might one day die from the excitement of it all.
Remembering the half-dozen training manuals that the breeder had thrown in ‘just in case,’ I made a big show of ignoring her, casually setting down my bag and tossing my coat and calmly making my way over to the couch, where she immediately leapt into my lap and stretched herself upward to begin the ritual licking of my face. Her little wet tongue worked its way from my forehead to underneath