On Tears...A Very Unfunny and Slightly Pathetic Memoir

May I speak to you for a moment? F said, and I trailed him as he snaked through the trading floor into a maze of conference rooms, holding the door open for me as I entered the one he deemed suitable of his tyranny.

“So,” he leaned back, settling in. “How are things going?”

This question, it should be noted, is never as innocuous as it appears. To have heard it is to know that one is really being held to one of two options: to laud one’s own achievements in advance of a shitton more cash, or to acknowledge one’s utter inability to justify the insuficient amount thus received. As a matter of principle, I’ve always opted for number one.

“Really well, thanks,” I replied.

“Uh-huh. Actually…I hear you’re sort of out of focus. What do you think about that?” he went on. I think you have nothing better to do and that you could possibly use a better haircut.

“Well, I’d certainly beg to differ,” I replied.

He didn’t skip a beat. “Well, I think it may be true, not to mention,” he leaned in, this being his tactic- to lean in conspiratorially as he dealt his blow, “I think others would agree with me as well.” He let this word, others hang for a moment so that I could absorb the intended effect. It was of no matter whether the others consisted of his half-retarded analyst or of the board of directors themselves. It was assumed presumptuous of me to ask.

“You didn’t come golfing with us yesterday,” he added, as if this were the real offense.

“Well,” I ventured, cracking a smile, “I don’t particularly enjoy golf.” He couldn’t conceive of why this would be true. His eyes probed mine; and just like that I was seething. His accusations appeared benign enough, they always did, but I knew what he was saying. Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for all of it.

“Well listen, I just want to bring this to your attention because there are a million analysts like you. Smart…you really wowed us in the beginning, you know. But, we need someone who wants to be a part of this team. You get what I mean?” he said, and just like that I was in a cloud of rage. I stared into his cold dead eyes, willing myself not to cry. You lousy fucking prick, I repeated to myself on a reel, all of this because you can’t get laid. This didn’t help per usual, and the waterworks betrayed me. He sneered at me with mock pity, and excused himself from the room.

By then it was of course too late; I’d have to cross the floor minutes later, my face the hue of raw ham. Of course I didn’t admit it then, but in retrospect, that moment was the culmination of a million frustrations. I hated that fucking city. I hated working for such a prick. I hated sleeping alone in that oversized suite that just begged for another being. I hated that I’d eaten everything room service had to offer- in my bathrobe no less! and hadn't enjoyed any of it. I hated that hotels in general, which used to hold such an allure to me as a child, now recalled working late nights and drinking alone.

It struck me as utterly decadent and idiotic that they ironed my underwear, which I regarded as a pitiful consolation prize for my not being in New York.

But most of all, I hated F. I hated that the first day I arrived at the hotel he noted “Wow, boarding school girl like you, I’d have expected nicer bags.” I hated him for being the type of guy who gives a fuck about someone’s luggage, or that at any rate would be so crass as to mention this to a girl.

Everything that came after simply gave me reason to spite him more.

In the end, as pitifully corny a conclusion to a rather typical story this is, he did me a favor- making my decision to leave crisply and wholly justifiable. One day I returned to the hotel, packed my belongings and – leaving him my remote access chip with the concierge (no note) I left. My driver Steve, who I now realize was my only friend during the time I’d stayed there, gave me a gift. It was a Starbucks gift card for $30, one that I felt immediately guilty for accepting but so touched about that I was left with no other option.

And it was then that I cried tears of joy.