An email exchange between me and my coworker Emily that I seriously wish I could take back. Sorry, Emily. Sorry, Tim. I’m just so sorry.
From: Emily
Sent: Wednesday, April 23, 2008 11:14 AM
To: Jill
Subject: no more…
Alas, Jill… I’ll certainly miss your cheery disposition on Mondays and Wednesdays and hope that we do, indeed, meet up for some drinkin’ and bitchin’ sometime soon.
When’s your last day? I have six more fucking weeks to go.
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From: Jill
Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2008 11:18:55 -0400
To: Emily
Subject: RE: no more…
Are you making fun of the so-very-un-cheery disposition I display every day that I sit behind this desk? That’s okay. You’re allowed. I had my first Sue Shapiro writing class last night and immediately fell into I’m-not-good-enough despair. Way to go, self-esteem — thanks for being there for me.
I plan on throwing a big I Quit My Job party in May when the weather’s nice enough to use the roof deck. Hopefully no one will get drunk and fall off. That would kind of suck.
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From: Emily
Sent: Wednesday, April 23, 2008 11:44 AM
To: Jill
Subject: Re: no more…
Yeah, I was kind of poking fun…
Sue Shapiro is great, but speaking of low self-esteem, I’m having a serious bout of it myself. It’s crippling—I can’t get anything done because of it. Plus, Robert hates the apartment that I found. He used that word: hate. It pissed me off because I think he’s overreacting. Basically, in any New York apartment you have to sacrifice the kitchen for the bathroom; bedroom for the living room; etc. There is no such thing as the perfect living space…he’s used to these sprawling Bondi beach pads, but this ain’t the beach, buddy! So, we’re at an impass…
Anyway, two things to get you in a better mood about your work decision:
Tammy just interofficed me an uplifting article from Marie Claire. Do you have the May issue? If not, I’ll photocopy and interoffice to you.
I just received my Amazon.com order, which includes a book called “The Anti 9-to-5 Guide” by Michelle Goodman. Goodman’s book will be my bible; perhaps it could be yours, too?
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From: Jill
Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2008 11:58:27 -0400
To: Emily
Subject: RE: no more…
Hates it? He will get used to it. But how frustrating, especially when you’re in love with it, and had to find a place without his help.
Funny, I just bought “4-Hour Workweek,” which I think I have to return. The author is a dick. The kind of guy who thought he was hot shit in college and always found ways to pump himself up even though you knew – despite his success – that he was a complete moron. It feels like a get-rich-quick book, and I feel dirty reading it. I’ll have to look up yours instead. Clearly, I need a shot of inspiration.
No, I don’t have Marie Claire anywhere near me. Do send it down, please. The only thing I’ve got to look at down here is the new intern who insists on wearing sparkly tube dresses every day.
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From: Emily
Sent: Wednesday, April 23, 2008 12:17 PM
To: Jill
Subject: Re: no more…
Oh my god—Tim Ferris is actually a friend of mine! We met at the Szechenyi baths in Budapest years ago. We were the lone Americans…
Very funny…
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From: Jill
Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2008 12:23:27 -0400
To: Emily
Subject: RE: no more…
Oh my god. However did I manage to insult one of your friends so badly? By the way, I hate your new apartment.
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From: Emily
Sent: Wednesday, April 23, 2008 12:35 PM
To: Jill
Subject: Re: no more…
And you hate my new tube dress…
Thanks.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: email exchange, foot in mouth, four-hour workweek, office skank, susan shapiro, tim ferris, tube dresses
which is why I NEVER offer book reviews or recommend books to friends.
’cause that is exactly what would happen to me. (not that I know anyone who used to hang out in the Szechenyi baths in Budapest. or the baths in SF for that matter, either.)
I’ll send a shoe horn to help you with that case of foot-in-mouth..
Yikes! But, seriously, the tube dress? Hideous.
Okay, tube dress? Whaa? She had to have seen that coming.
I work with two of my best friends, and every once in awhile, we’ll be in the middle of a work bitchfest, and one of us will say “who the hell decided x? Were they on crack?”, and one of the others will say “did you think it was that awful?”, and right when it’s as awkward as possible, the other will say “I did that!”
My coworker just reported a sighting of a girl in Daisy Duke shorts and Converse sneakers. It is take your child to work day. Maybe she just wanted to blend in with the boss’s daughter.
I thought I was the queen of sticking my foot in my mouth, but it appears I need to relinquish my title.