One drink. Really.

I walked back into our favorite bar for the traditional Friday wine-wind-down. The moment I stepped foot inside, the bartenders, hostesses, and owner all demanded: “Where’s Tequila?!”

Dear God. My dog’s famous.

One Tequila… on the floor

Sometimes it’s just easier to keep going than to slow down. It’s been a whirlwind of a month, fun & colors flying by. Every once in a while I take a moment from my ridiculously busy work day to reflect upon the previous evening, sooth the headache, and find myself uncontrollably laughing at some silly memory.

This morning has been full of laughter and Advil.

Yes, I have been out every night this week. So last night I brought the dog to work for two reasons: 1.) It’s hot. 2.) If I have my dog with me, I can’t go to the bars and will therefore go home at a reasonable hour and get a long, full, sober night of sleep.

Wrong.

Julie and I ended up working late. Around 8, I said, “How about one glass of wine to wind down? It’s gorgeous out, and I need something to calm my nerves.” I’ve never known Julie to turn down a drink.

We set off seeking outdoor accommodations where Tequila could join us. With waits from 50 minutes to an hour and a half near the waterfront, we decided to head back towards the office and into the city… where our favorite bar has empty outdoor tables. And we sat, ordered the wine.

Being regulars, the manager came out to hang for a few. He loved Tequila (but then again, who doesn’t?) She was super-cute & well behaved, so we decided to stay for dinner. Pizza and one more glass of wine later, we decided to order a last drink. No sooner had we toasted to another fun week than the skies opened up and rain came pouring down. We were stuck. With Tequila with us, we couldn’t go inside. But with fresh drinks in hand, we couldn’t possibly leave.

We found ourselves dry, huddled under the awning above the entrance way. The owner came out, looked at us, and laughed. “What the hell are you guys doing out here?”

“Well, we can’t come in.”

“Why? ‘Cause of your seeing eye dog? I don’t care. Bring her in.”

In we went.

So there was me, Julie & Tequila, hanging out in the bar.

And of course, everyone wanted to buy the girls with the dog a drink… so we stayed until closing. I have the best dog ever. All she did all night was sleep under my stool, and come cuddle with whomever would come over to give her some lovin’ and us some drinks. The entire staff hung out with us. We even got fancy snowcone drinks that take 5 whole minutes to make.

But, of course, no T runs that late, so I ran found myself in the second challenging situation of the evening: How do you get a golden retriever home at 2:30 in the morning?! No cab in their right mind would take us. (Not that I blame them — have you seen how much she sheds?!)

I was running out of options. In the back of my panicked mind I figured I could sleep in the office and take the first T home, drop the dog off, and shower. Yes, that would suck, but I can’t walk home this late at night. It takes two hours. And it’s not safe.

“Julie, what time does the T open?”

But Julie was falling asleep on her feet. So I befriended the old creepy Italian bellman. After winning him over with my girlish charm, I casually made my case: “I have the best dog here ever, she’s so quiet and well-behaved. But she’s big, and no cab will take us.”

“I have a friend who drives a cab,” he said, and I knew I was in.

While waiting for his friend to arrive, a drunk man stopped beside me and said, “Where I am from, we call zees a labrahdor.”

I can recognize that accent anywhere. “Mais oui! Et elle est française, donc elle s'est souvent appelée un Labrador.” And then we spoke French.

Of all things, he was a deckhand on some wealthy man’s private yacht. It made me miss Tony.

Anyways — the cab arrived. But his last fare puked all over the seat. Tequila and I had to make a decision: take a huge risk and not get in the stinky van, or accept that the only cab willing to take us will smell of vomit. So we rode home in with the stink of puke in our nostrils, grateful somebody would take us.


I only saw Alex briefly this morning. He says, “Really, Catherine? Out to 3:30 with the dog? C’mon now.”

And that’s why tonight, I’m going to bed by 9.

Oh dear... another night out.

You know it’s bad when you’ve become such a regular at a bar that the owner and bartenders meet you socially.

Tonight we were partying at the Greatest Bar, celebrating the pilot episode of our colleagues new TV show about nightlight in Boston. It was fun, totally inappropriate, hilariously random, and one of those nights that will encompass amusing memories for quite some time.

I just can’t even get into it at the moment. I’m far too tired.

Not so much

This was supposed to be date #2 with the guitarist. Obviously it’s not happening. This is for three reasons:

1.) HE cancelled. (Kind of.) He was booked for a gig last minute tonight, so he couldn’t make it to a movie (my idea: less talking involved). He invited me along, but I politely declined.

2.) He won’t stop calling me at work, even when I’ve asked him not to. I can’t answer the phone in the middle of meetings to talk about comic books and Nintendo games. (Seriously, this is what he calls about.)

3.) He keeps talking about “the long term.” Maybe I’m a commitment-phobe, but it’s creeping me out.

4.) He failed to acknowledge (in any way) my birthday, which I've been talking about since we met. I mean, not even a text message. Not even an e-mail!

Poor kid. I’m being cruel. He’s super sweet, kind, polite, ridiculously good looking, funkily alterative… and totally not for me.

Sorry to disappoint… I know you all were rooting for a date #3.

Drinks w/ LK

I love hanging out with Leslie. She’s awesome. She’s brilliant & kind, and she’s fun.

And every time we have drinks and snacks, I leave with so much to think about.

Umm... A Saturday Recap Attempt

I adore Michelle. She was one of the four neighborhood girls growing up, and we always had fun. We’d write, spy, dream of far off places. But then she moved away.

Somehow, we kept in sporadic touch. It wasn’t until a recent pit stop in DC that we really reconnected, and I realized how much we had in common. So naturally I’ve been looking forward to her visit for quite a long time.

I had no idea how crazy it’d be.

We hung out at the apartment for awhile before heading into Harvard Square. She requested a place where we could get cheap drinks (nearly impossible in this town), and/or a bar where we’d be comfortable without dressing up, but someplace where we could dance. To me, that means $5 margaritas at Border Cafe followed by drafts & dancing at Tommy Doyles.

HILARIOUS.

Cosa and her boyfriend, Steve, met us at Borders, and we chatted over cheese quesadillas and nachos. Then to Tommys… We walked up to the bouncer (who was collecting a $2 cover charge — why bother?!) and Michelle winks & says, “Can we get a group rate?”

The bouncer laughed. She held strong.

“How many are you?” he asked, his voice thick with a Caribbean accent.

“5.”

“Four hot ladies & just one man,” I added.

“In that case, sure. How much you got?” A few dollars later and we were in.


I always thought I could dance. But then I watched Michelle.

That girl can MOVE! The moment she stepped on the dance floor was the moment men started appeared out of no where. I think they crawled out of the woodwork. Men ditched the girls they had previously been drooling over to come watch Michelle. But she, being so “international” in focus, picked the curly haired Brazilian who didn’t speak English. She’s fluent in Spanish, so somewhere between that and his Portuguese they managed some kind of conversation. All night. He told her his friends wanted to dance with her friends.

Which is when I quickly retreated to the bar with Cosa and Steve.

It was around this time when Cosa and Steve recognized the boyfriend of one of their friends. This kid, Richie, was native to East Cambridge; tough, tattooed, rough around the edges. But nice. The four of us hung out until closing time… when the Brazilians would not release Michelle and her friend from their charming conversation.

So I asked this Richie to break it up. It didn’t take much. He walked over, crossed his muscular arms, and said: “Girls, if you want a ride, we’re leaving now.” The men, scared, turned away. Michelle & her friend, eager to get off their feet, came over.

And so we hopped in his car. Somehow it made sense to drop Cosa and Steve off first. “They’re most out of the way.” I guess?

But on the way from Allston to Porter Square, the boys decided they were hungry. “Pizza, anyone?”

We were hungry too, but never have I had a weirder late-night experience. We entered a trashy pizza place in sketchy Central Square. Homeless drunks begged outside. Indoors, two police officers kept watch. And I was the only white person in the place. And having grown up in the country, I’m really really white.

Soon Michelle’s friend was speaking German to some Eastern European immigrant. Michelle was chatting away in Spanish to two guys behind her. And I just huddled close to Richie, trying not to seem too out of place. “Um, can we go home now?”

No one listened until the shop owner said they were locking the doors for the night. So we piled into the car and they dropped us off not far from home.

We walked around the corner & down the street to my apartment, and never have I felt so relieved to walk into my own space.

What a night.


And by 8:30 this morning, Michelle & her friend were gone. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.

The New Guy

We hired a man. The first real man of the office. And he’s AWESOME.

Plus, he never says no to a drink… which goes a long way in the social ladder of our office.

Tonight, for example, after traditional drinks at Vintage, he took us to Sail Loft – where his buddy tends bar. Free drinks for all! Woohoo!

(Now THAT’s how you win over colleagues!)

I miss the office.

Nothing like a quick trip to Maine for a long, painful meeting... especially after an exhausting two-day presentation down the Cape.

...I can only imagine the e-mails.

An Amazing Opportunity... & many more to come

There’s something about Boston that breeds incredible young women. Every day I’m surrounded by them: In the office I see young women who are brilliant and strategic and capable of anything. In my friends I witness a never-ending devotion to life and fun. And at events, I watch women change the world.

One such brilliant woman is Lindsay Hyde, for whom I’m a “communications consultant”. Working with her is going to be a lot of fun. For example: Tonight she’s receiving one of four national Jefferson Awards, which is a prestigious national recognition system honoring community and public service in America.

In 1972, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, U.S. Senator Robert Taft, Jr. and Sam Beard founded the American Institute for Public Service to establish a Nobel Prize for public and community service — The Jefferson Awards. Over the past 35 years, the organization has honored a "Who's Who" of outstanding Americans and changemakers including Barbara Bush, Rosalynn Carter, Colin Powell, Bob Hope and Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor.

Lindsay is winning the national award for Greatest Public Service by an Individual 35 Years or Under. Previous winners include Peyton Manning, Lance Armstrong, Faith Hill, Steve Jobs (seriously — in 1987), and the 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team.

The other national recipients? Geoffrey Canada, Jeff Sachs, and Richard Daley. OMG. (And yes, Lindsay even has a wiki entry…)

So this organization, which boasts 150 Media Partners in 90 communities across the country and a board of 75 prestigious Americans (including Senator Tom Daschle, Senator Bill Frist, Laura Bush, Hank Aaron, Lesley Stahl and Michael Douglas), presents these amazing awards to this years winner each June in D.C.

While in D.C., she'll also have dinner with the head of the Coca-Cola Foundation, meet with people in Ashoka (one of the most fascinating organizations I can think of), and meet all sorts of incredible people.

And she asked me to join her.


Unfortunately, the timing won't work. But I can't give up hope! If these are the relationships she's seeding, and she's inviting me along for the ride, what will the future hold?

(the sky's the limit)

22

I LOVE my grandparents. I feel like they’ve rescued the day… because it’s been tough.

First of all, no one should have to wake up by 5 on their birthday. But when you have to catch the 6:15 commuter rail into town because you stayed too late on the porch in the country celebrating Father’s Day, well, you do what you gotta do.

My mother was sweet enough to leave a birthday card for me.

Other than that, it was just a crappy day. Birthdays are never crappy for me — I spend all year waiting for the next one… as if by celebrating a birthday I’m some how catching up to the age of my friends. (For some odd reason, I don’t feel like I’m gaining any ground in this regard.) This year, it was just another day of work… a day full of stress and preparation for the big presentation we have to give tomorrow. I only got one birthday hug (but a few birthday wishes -- thanks!). And it was nice out — I should have been at the beach!

Instead, we packed it in, traveled to the Cape, and did a practice run of tomorrow’s big event. This went wrong, that's not ready, and I have all those other things to do this week... and I'll be out of the office until Thursday.

But things got better when I found my way to Grandma & Papa’s. They made the day special. We had an absolutely incredible dinner at Abba in Orleans, dessert with a candle, and the sweetest card. I am incredibly grateful.

We just arrived home and I’m exhausted. It’s the craziness of the month. The swings of the day. The stresses of tomorrow. The pleasant heaviness of good food & wine in my tummy.

But you know it’s a sad sign when you beat your grandparents to bed.

Mom's Birthday

I spent the afternoon in the office. Alex & his friends from school spent the afternoon at the Sox game.

I picked them up, sobered by the weight of work. They stumbled over, still slurring their words.

And all together we met my parents for dinner to celebrate my mother’s birthday.

Temple Bar in Cambridge has become one of my most favorite places to eat and drink. The food is incredible. They have outdoor seating, and when the weather’s not nice, they have a big round booth in the back corner where you and 9 of your closest friends can hang out comfortably sipping delicious cocktails. The bartenders are fun, and the place has become the venue for many fond memories — from my 21st birthday to drinks with Tony when he visited from Australia.

Temple is owned by the same company responsible for Grafton Street Pub in Harvard Square, where my father and I had a rare dinner together, and Red Line, where “the younger generation” ended up after dinner. (As if my brother & his friends needed to drink some more.) It’s chic and expensive, but comfortable and fun. I had two fancy drinks and spent the night chatting with a very nice woman from France. She left just before we did.

Then, apparently, I made a major faux pas: I gave her my card.

What?! I liked hanging out with the girl! And we talked about the best French restaurants in Boston, as well as the best places to live in Paris. In my mind, this would be a great & strategic friendship.

But the moment I whipped out the case, Alex & his friends started laughing. Ridiculing me. Having a go. I didn’t hear the end of it all night.

I think it’s because they’re secretly envious that I have cards. And an office. (teehee!)

…time to go home for Father’s Day.

120 bottles of beer on the wall...

What would you do if you acquired 120 bottles of Sam Adams beer for free?

Throw a party, obviously!

That’s exactly what Cosa did after her boyfriend, Steve, received all the leftover beer donated to the Boston Public Library Foundation’s gala last week. Beers filled the fridge, storage bins transformed into coolers, Sam took over the tub… beers everywhere!

We tried drinking games, but Sam’s too good to drink quickly. We thought about a lockdown – not letting anyone out until the booze disappeared; but then we realized this would lead to a really messy apartment — not something Cosa felt like dealing with. So we ended up with a 5 beer minimum: Can’t leave until you do your part.

Meanwhile, I’m exhausted. It’s been crazy; fun, but crazy. So I drank my 5 beers, hung out with their friends, and made a quiet exit… shamefully passing on some great opportunities with dear old Sam.

Then again, I doubt 120 beers will disappear in one night…

Now that's a night out!

Hah.

That was fun.

Way more fun than, for example, the date last night. Not that this was a date — just a thinly veiled set-up between myself and one of Lindsay’s friends who I hung out with at a barcrawl a few months ago. The same friend who gawked at my young age. But at least we get along. And both have us have no intention of staying in Boston too much longer… so I’m not feeling suffocated. Just free.

Lindsay & I started with a quick Vintage drink with our colleagues after work. We ended up at the bar at MATCH, where we ordered fancy martinis and talked. (I adore Lindsay.) Then her friend arrived, and finally — hours late — her husband. And the four of us had a blast.

Already I forget what half of the conversations were about. All I can remember is laughter. Laughing all the time. Laughing as we clinked our martini glasses. Laughing as the burgers we ordered turned out to be the size of silver dollars (apparently you’re supposed to order several?). Laughter about robots Matt's building...

Laughter is the greatest thing of all.

It’s just fun to be silly.

(I can’t believe I have to work tomorrow. And celebrate my birthday.)

A Date

Ok, that wasn’t so bad. I went on a date.

Although I must confess — despite another kiss goodbye — I’m not feeling any butterflies. Shouldn’t the first date be exciting?

Frankly, I can identify two reasons for my hesitation — neither of which are bad enough to deter me from having a second date.

1.) He’s 20 years old. I know being just 21 (almost 22!) it would be unfair of me to judge on this alone, but I don’t ever think of myself as 21. I don’t have any friends under the age of 25. And for this same reason, it’d be awfully hypocritical of me to say anything negative about his age.

2.) He’s “into the long term.” And wouldn’t shut up about it. Ever. “I really am looking forward to the future.” “I just want to know how to impress you over the long term.” I am fiercely independent and quite comfortable with my singleness… and it’ll take some time to win me over.

But we’ll see — second date slated for the week of the 24th… I’m too busy until then!

Le Fin

I love hanging out with my bosses. They’re just awesome.

Tonight was the final event of our favorite client. The team for this account is Leslie, Lindsay & I, and the three of us work remarkably well together. But it’s more than that. We’re more than colleagues… more than mentors and mentees, even. (Although I do look up to both of them.) We’re friends, too.

And we have fun.

So tonight we celebrated the conclusion of a year-long series with drinks at one of Boston’s newest hippest hot-spots, the Beehive.

Bell Ringers

Tonight was the biggest PR awards dinner in Boston. And we did damn well.

I’m so proud of this little agency & the brilliant women within it.

My Space

We dropped B off to meet Alex for a game of golf somewhere on the South Shore. So Mom & I headed into town to do what girls do on Sundays… decorate.

I HAVE AN OFFICE! & damn, it looks good.

Mum & I (all 5’2” of us) moved the furniture around, toyed with feng shui, and had a grand old time planning which paintings & pictures I should scatted on my four big white walls.

And to celebrate, we went to lunch at Sel de la Terre.

There’s nothing like passing Sunday afternoon’s outside with nice wine & good food. : )

Allyn's Wedding

Today my second-cousin Allyn got married (for the second time) to an absolutely beautiful & fun & wonderful woman.

Not to get stuck on the wedding theme… but this is how I’d do it.

Nothing boring. No fancy readings. Engage the audience & get the formalities done… so you can wine, dine & dance! It was just a lot of fun. They are actors, and their wedding was a performance of true love. I’m so happy for them.

And we, the guests, had a lot of fun. My table was filled with interesting people from New York (including a Times reporter), and — according to cousin Nicky — I was “on fire.” We talked about work and social entrepreneurism, and (thanks to my big mouth) engaged in a heated & intellectual discussion about corporate social responsibility, Starbucks, brand identities & marketing.

Good God.

Gala @ BPL

If I ever get married in Boston, it will be at the Boston Public Library.

What a beautiful place! White lights & icicle-colored ribbons decorated the old marble staircase leading to a five-star dinner on the second floor. Downstairs, in the classic and impressively painted reading room, a live band played the blues. Next door, open bar — complete with my favorite red, Paul Jaboulet’s Parallel 45. And beyond that, a small seating area in one of the historic library’s most gorgeous rooms, with the ceiling high glass doors opened to the beautiful courtyard… where the fountain became the center of the dance floor, and the between the flowers and bushes of the gardens hid more bars and tables of hors d’oeuvres. The people matched the loveliness of the décor.

And after just two hours of hanging around with palm pilots pretending we knew what the hell we were doing, Cosa, Michelle, Steve and I joined the party.

(Nothing like volunteering to wave the $1500 cost of entry…)

See ya in the end of June:

(Although I'll still try to write)

But my life is officially crazy until then:

Yesterday: Restaurant opening celebration until the bar closed...
Wednesday: Boston Junior Chamber of Commerce meeting 'til 10...
Tonight: Boston Public Library Foundation gala until the bar is really, really closed...
Tomorrow: Cousin's wedding in Duxbury, MA

Sunday 6/10: Move into my (first!) office
Monday 6/11: Biggest PR event in Boston
Tuesday 6/12: Final event of one my busiest, bestest clients
Wednesday 6/13: Hot date (seriously)
Thursday 6/14: Boston French Library meeting
Friday 6/15: Birthday celebration (a few days early)
Saturday 6/16: Mom's birthday
Sunday 6/17: Father's Day
Monday 6/18: My birthday... but more significantly a major presentation in Cape Cod
Tuesday 6/19: Part II of major presentation in Cape Cod
Wednesday 6/20: Portland, ME for another major client meeting
Thursday 6/21: DC (hopefully sooner!)

So life will return to normal by Monday, June 25th... right?

And I thought summers were quiet...

Lessons (to be) Learned

There are two things I'm really trying to teach myself:

1. To have patience.


2. To take "no" for an answer.

Neither are going so well for me...

The Cat that Ate the Canary

That’s what Lauren called me today. “You haven’t stopped smiling.”

I can’t help it; it was a really good day!

From San Francisco (hi!) to D.C. to Paris, I talked to many of my favorite & most fun people all over the world. And I worked hard, accomplished a lot, and discovered incredible opportunities I never thought I’d experience so young.

Do you ever come home feeling absolutely exhausted by the wonder of the days events? My cheeks are sore from smiling so much.

More to come later. For now… sleep…

Women Power

There are a lot of strong women in my life. There always have been, and I’m incredibly happy to have them on my side.

During post-work cocktails, I told Leslie (who is now officially part of the leadership of the firm) the story of my crazy old roommates and how abusive they could be. She said, “Oh my God — Let’s take them down, Catherine. We’ll destroy them.”

I beamed. I have no intention of seeking revenge, but hearing Leslie offer to defend me — and knowing her wit and intelligence would, in fact, destroy these two girls — felt incredibly empowering.

On the T home after this conversation, I buried myself in the pages of Wizard of the Crow (a satire on political corruption in Africa), but was struck after the first paragraph. It just seemed to resonate in many ways:

The condition of women in a nation is the real measure of its progress. You imprison a woman and you have imprisoned a nation, we sang in a song of celebration... Her eyes were still flashing with pride at the memory of the women’s courage and their well-earned victory. “And that night I kept on repeating the words. Women power did it.”

A Surprising Phone Call

The phone rang. In the midst of e-mailing a client, I stop to answer. “This is Catherine.”

“Hi Catherine.”

Pause.

Is a voice I should recognize? “Hi?”

“I’m actually calling because I was wondering how to get out of the second basement in A Link to the Past?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, this isn’t a Nintento help hotline.”

“I’m really calling about that date for a show that we discussed,” he explained. (We talked about recruiting them for our summer outing.)

“Sure you are.”

But we did get to talking. I couldn’t believe the boy I kissed & ran from last night was actually calling. He talked about how I must get up so early… and he only does when he drives his 10-year-old brother to school. For some reason, this statement made me think of something else he said last night — he doesn’t drink.

Doesn’t drink. No job. Young little brother. Is this kid even 21?

“Um, I have to go, I’m in the middle of work. Sorry. Will call about that date, ok?”

“Uh, ok.”

And, once again, I ran away.

Spiders vs Dating

You know those sultry, mysterious women who wear red dresses and black stilettos and pouty lipstick? And they lure men in with their wit and charm, kiss them seductively, then leave with grace and dignity?

I am not one of those women.

I may be fun. I may be flirtatious. I may be cute (and I own some really cute shoes.) I may be able to lure a man in… but the departure is never very smooth.

It’s no secret that I hate dating. Hate it. I love the flirting. I love meeting new people. But there’s little I dread more than that awkward, forced hour or so of conversation on first dates, or the weird “now what?” feeling when you meet someone you’re drawn to and it’s time to leave. I think I rank dating only slightly above spiders. And I really loathe spiders.

Last night, for example, I spent the evening flirting with an 80s cover band’s guitarist. (Being an 80s-cover-band guitarist makes him pretty damn attractive to begin with, but he was also one of the cutest men I’ve seen in a long time.) I wasn’t crawling on the dance floor with the groupies (I don’t do competition for men… they’re simply not worth it), but I could hold my own in a conversation about Zelda (don’t ask). And he showered me with t-shirts and free giveaways, and then he kissed me goodbye.

And then I said, “Alrite, gotta go” and ran away.

Seriously. I need to learn how to make a smooth exit.

Weekend #1

As I have every intention of moving home in the fall, I’m making a vow to do something fun (and new) every weekend this summer. Live it up while I still can.

Weekend #1 began with a sprint from work to North Station to catch the commuter rail to Lowell. Sounds easy (saving for the running part), but it’s not. When you arrive at the station, they have a giant T sign (the symbol for the MBTA) and stairs leading to the bowels of the earth. When you approach the doorway, however, they have a sign that says: “Commuter Rail” and points left. So after arriving at this entrance and seeing the sign, I began sprinting to my left, conscious of the minute hand creeping ever-so-quickly to my 5:30pm departure time. One block to the left, I arrived at another giant T and sign reading “Commuter Rail”… this one pointing right. I dared to take a second to contemplate, then sprinted back to my right… only to arrive at the original entrance. Panic set in.

After risking precious time to seek directions, I found myself running along the platform and jumping onto the soon-to-depart train to Lowell. Why Lowell? Because that’s where Chrissy’s graduation party was.

At some points, it got a little sloppy...

But needless to say, it was a lot of fun.

And kind of like a elementary school reunion, as the place was packed with Mendonites.

And, to keep with my “All fun, al the time” weekend plan, I dragged my brother to the movie theater (courtesy of his passes) to see Pirates III.

& I love Pirates. : )

I <3 June

The best things happen in June. And we're already off to a good start.

My closest colleague/direct boss keeps telling me “this is going to be a great year.” She promises I’ll have a lot of fun, and a lot to look forward to. “You deserve a promotion, and trust me, you’ll get it.” She’s trying to make sure I stay. As if I really have any means to go anywhere else.

And as I was looking at her calendar to schedule some meeting or another with our mutual boss, I couldn’t help but notice that my review was scheduled for the week of June 11th. (Our mutual boss doesn’t yet know how to mark things “Private” in Outlook…) I don’t know why, but I love looking back in calendars to see where I was exactly one year ago, and I noticed that last year at that time, I was promoted. And the year before that, I was lounging on the beach in the south of France. And a year from now, well… we’ll see.

With the exodus at work, people are a little busier than usual… and little bit freaked. I was not surprised when my boss came over and asked me into the founder & CEO’s office, as the two of them had just come back from a new business pitch and I was sure they were looking for my help. Instead, the owner spoke with a big smile:

Things are too busy for formal review, so it will be rescheduled at a later date, but it’s no secret they love me, she said. “You do exceptional work, and we’re so happy to have you.”

“Thank you.” I always feel awkward when she compliments me. It’s a lot of pressure, for some reason.

“And you know how we were talking and I said it was time for you to have an office?”

I could feel the excitement growing. “Yes…”

“Well, I’d like to give you and office.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. Sweet!!!

She was laughing, too. “And to go with that office, how about a promotion?”

“Um, ok!”

“And, with that promotion, perhaps a pay raise?”

Music to my ears.

So I suppose something has come out of a week of woe… and I was thrilled when my congratulatory e-mail went around…

“Congratulations are in order…
We are pleased to announce that Kitty has been promoted to Account Executive. Her media savvy, creative thinking, and event planning skills have made Kitty a trusted colleague to her team members, and her positive energy and "fun" ideas have been appreciated by us all. So join us in congratulating Kitty in a promotion well deserved!!!”

awwww