At my last job, I came into contact with a communications firm that works with executives to find appropriate platforms for speeches. As I understand it, the firm basically keeps a calendar of conferences and suggests ones at which their clients present. I sort of cannot believe companies pay for this type of service, but there you go...
So, this firm has been moving into the corporate social responsibility arena recently and is based outside of Boston, so the founder continues to reach out to me in order to tap into my network. I, of course, am not at a senior enough level to actually qualify as a client, nor does my company pay for such foolishness.
After several months of chasing me down for dinner, I finally gave in and met up with the founder and COO last night at a French restaurant near my house. The company founder, an older gentleman who's always in a suit and has thick, tortoise-shell spectacles, was seated at his favorite table (where we met for lunch several months ago) and the COO, a woman about my age, sat next to him, also in a suit. I plopped into place in my jeans and sweater.
It's so awkward spending dinner with people who are so formal with each other. Ms. COO kept doting on the founder, serving him and offering him bread, water, etc. The company founder took it upon himself to order for the table, even though I had not shared with him what I wanted to eat. So, I had to correct him and let our waiter know that I did not want the skate fish. Instead, I wanted the moules frites. Frites!
And once our meals arrived, the two of them inhaled their food and left me picking at each individual mussel. When I was nearly done, I felt like I was holding everyone up so I pretended that I didn't want my French fries and left all the delicious, soupy sauce to sit in the bowl (normally, I would have dunked the bread into the sauce, using it to sponge-paint my tastebuds).
But our forced conversation was so aggravating! Everything was "lovely" or "exquisite" or "divine." I had to endure phrases like "We have been summering on Block Island in the same charming cottage every year for the past 25 years" or "We take an annual trip to a delightful island in the Caribbean that imports mussels from Bretagne every Thursday."
I am very glad to be leaving Boston for a West Coast getaway in a few weeks!
My Monday night plans didn't seem very bold: get home from work, go to the gym, return home and watch television. However, when I returned home from work on the later side (these days, after 7pm is late), and there were a few little snowflakes in the air, I couldn't motivate to get to the gym.
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