Girls in a nutshell

You know you're friends when ...

My best friend Hallie once said in high school that you know you’re befriended someone when he is comfortable enough to poke fun of you. It’s true.

As a young adult, I knew I’d befriended certain work friends when they invite me to lunch to meet their spouse. When I bake up some yumyums (at their request) and leave it on their desk in Tupperware I never expect to see again, and find the same container sitting neatly on my desk a few days later, freshly washed, before I arrive. When they lend me their prized broadband card to let me finish some work at night – rather than coming in the office at a crazy, early hour – during an especially busy week when my wireless card died.

It's amazing how people -- even those we spend 40 hours a week with but aren't quite real-life friends (yet) -- can surprise us in such small but sentimental ways.

Real-life and work friend Irene and me purposely
dressed in coordinating outfits on Halloween

Chutzpah

Not that complicated

An overly gregarious work acquaintance took me conversational hostage one day in the corporate kitchen so he could talk at length about his new romantic conquest. I, meanwhile, could not but be perplexed that he’d reveal so much to someone he hardly knows in such an open, public space, and I half-listened while secretly plotting an escape. I felt awkward when he ventured to share some TMI details, such as conquest’s lackluster kissing talents. He inevitably turned the conversation to  inquire about my love life, but I felt much too uncomfortable to make any attempt at courtesy. I froze and snapped, “I don’t talk about my personal life.” I then made a quick exit from the conversation and  darted back to a place of refuge (my desk) to eat my lunch.

That made me feel like a terrible person because I did not mean to appear rude or “standoffish.” This must be one of those quintessential moments that make me such an enigma to my parents. The fact is, I often don’t feel comfortable talking about my personal life or my feelings in general, so I certainly wouldn’t share details of my (very ordinary) personal life with just anyone. Unlike the rest of my family, I internalize everything -- even if I don’t show it outwardly. For my family, if they can’t see it, it must not exist. Such is the fallacy. I have nothing to hide, but my natural inclination is to keep to myself -- especially if I know the listener is a gossip or will make up his/her mind to disagree with or judge the way I live my life before hearing the whole story.

Everyone in my nuclear family would be happier if they would stop trying to comprehend my perceived complexities and instead accept me for who I am. Really, I must be the only person on the planet who can be so unintentionally offensive by virtue of my seeming reservedness. Hostility is an inappropriate answer to intrinsic reservedness, and I cannot imagine why anybody could think I’d respond cooperatively to that.

No surprise: the work acquaintance is almost my exact Myers-Briggs opposite.

Bye-bye, Google Reader

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Interview anniversary

Had my first real job interview a year ago today. What a milestone!

Sometimes I wonder where I would be or what I could've accomplished if I'd chosen or had the opportunity to map a different path, but then I catch myself: I am happy where I am, and incredibly lucky.

Lucky to enjoy my job (despite the occasional frustrating day). Lucky to enjoy the company of my colleagues (makes all the difference when we spend 40 hours a week among the same people). Lucky to be happy (again).

Spot me: Corporate Gym review

This piece appeared in my department's quarterly newsletter. I liked it enough to post it here, so enjoy :). Coworker name, city, and a few select details have been changed, but s'all the same apart from that.

PAFN Field Day 2009

With the urgency of a department newsletter article to produce, I laced up my sneakers and parked my biscuit on one of two treadmills at the Corporate Gym and hoped I would not be joined by anybody I recognize. I normally wouldn’t subject my acquaintances to the cruel misfortune of witnessing me sweating it out in workout attire, but I am willing to sacrifice some dignity for my fellow [people who work in my department]ers … By visiting the gym when I assumed most people had already left the office for the day.

I waited, of course, until the New Year’s resolutionists had lost most of their fervency before I paid a visit because I refuse to engage in the cumbersome acrobatics of changing in a narrow bathroom stall only to find both treadmills occupied, and so have nothing to do but lift weights for five minutes before I would inexorably succumb to boredom and drive home. (Alternatively, one could, of course, change in the more commodious bathroom stall if it is otherwise unoccupied, but I was not so lucky during my visit.)

Gym time is my one holy hour of solitude. I’m a member of [local gym] and go out of my way to steer clear of people I know at the gym because I prefer to exercise anonymously. For example, I avoid [local gym] location near by old high school in Falls Church – where teachers I recognize and snooty LBCers do yoga – whenever possible. Instead, I go to the location in my city of residence so I can workout happily among strangers. Bonus: No pressure to socialize (“My, what biceps you have!”), and I am familiar enough with the idiosyncrasies of the regulars to avoid the notoriously loud grunters, and obnoxious arm-flailers.