Galloping Cats

Eleven years ago today, my plans for the evening fell through. Coincidentally, so did the plans of a cute guy who worked an aisle or two away at my first job and who had been saying, “Hi Cat!” every time he passed me (which was often, since my desk was in the middle of the hallway) since I had started two weeks before.

What are you doing tonight? he asked.
I don’t know. What are you doing? I asked back.
I don’t know. What are you doing? he asked again.

So I took a deep breath and said, Do you want to get a drink?

We stopped off at his apartment on the way and he went into his closet to change his shirt. Peeking through the crack, I was astounded to see how white his chest was. Taking another deep breath, I decided I could get used to it.

Drinks at the Time Cafe on 7th Ave. (which is no longer there) turned merged into dinner at a sushi restaurant on Hudson Street (also no longer there) and then a movie. The next day, we both had pre-arranged dates with other people, but by evening, we were back together. The rest, as they say, is history.

One third of my life and counting.

I wanted to call American Airlines today for a question about my flight. It looked like all the seats were already booked, so I was wondering if I had any chance at all of getting on, even though I have a ticket.

I submitted to the computer, agreeably answering things like “reservations” and telling them my frequent flyer number, but it was getting me noplace. The computer just kept telling me things I didn’t need to know, like the times of my flight and the fact that I did not have a seat reservation.

“Representative,” I requested.

“Your options are ‘repeat’, ‘main menu’, or ‘finished’,” the computer replied.

“Representative!” I demanded.

“Your options are ‘repeat’, ‘main menu’, or ‘finished’,” the computer replied.

“I want to talk to a fucking person!” I shouted in irritation.

“A representative will be right with you,” the computer replied.

Ida came on the line immediately.

I calmly and casually mentioned that she might want to pass the message on that the American Airlines customer service that their system would only respond to swearing.

“I’m not allowed to swear on the job,” she told me.

“I’m not saying you should swear,” I told her. “I’m not really a swearer myself.” [I'm totally going to be struck by lightening.] “I just think they might want to know that the system didn’t respond to polite requests to speak with a representative.”

Silence.

[C'mon, it was kind of funny!]

Bottom line: She claims the seat just can’t be reserved in advance but there is space. Wish me luck.

Also: I still have my fear about flying causing miscarriage, but how can I spend my life refusing to get on an occasional plane for work when I don’t even know if I am pregnant? And I know there’s no evidence that it actually does cause problems. I am just telling myself that people doing IVF get on flights home right after all the time, right?

When I started business school seven years ago, I, like some of my classmates, was there to get the credentials required to further my chosen career. I had lost my job in the dot-com bust and every job I was interested in said “MBA required.” Other classmates were coming from jobs outside the business world, most frequently from engineering, and saw an MBA as a way to change and grow their career opportunities. Many people were there to escape jobs they hated in consulting, banking, or marketing. And for every person looking to get out of those fields, the most common paths for MBA grads, there were five looking to get into them.

We were all doomed, I realized, right from the beginning.

This weekend I went to my five year business school reunion, and I found that things had worked out pretty much as expected. Most people there felt the way I do about my job: they like it okay, but it’s just a job: they’re not especially excited to get out of bed every morning. The notable exception was my classmate who followed his passion and became an indie film producer. He hasn’t made any money yet, but his film was just purchased by MTV, so he is headed in the right direction.

(I am proud to say that he claims that my support of his career choice when we were in business school was very influential! He also says that I look even better now than I did then, so it was fun talking to him all the way around.)

So here is what I would say to anyone considering business school: It’s a great thing to do if you want to continue your career or are looking for an entree into corporations, consulting, or banking, and it will help you make anywhere from decent to unbelievable money. But following your passion, if you have one, is a more likely route to happiness.

Because I never found a true passion, I am saved from career regrets. I only kinda sorta had interests in graphic design and film editing, for instance. I’m not ecstatic about going to work every day, but I have learned to be grateful to have job that is intellectually challenging, pays decently (though a pittance when compared with some of my classmates in finance), and leaves me enough time for my true loves: Gatito and A. (Cheeseball sentiment, but true through and through.)

Please go read about Emily’s friends and consider some supportive words and/or a donation.

I’ve been exhausted all week, actually, getting into bed sometimes even before Gatito and sleeping 10-12 hours. I don’t know whether it’s ongoing jetlag or the miscarriage, light depression I haven’t been willing to admit to myself, or the combination of all those things gave me an excuse to act on my natural laziness. I was feeling low yesterday, and just for some time by myself, I jumped into the shower around 5:30. After I got out (and engaged in my stick peeing shenanigans), I was just putting on my pajamas when the doorbell rang. It was Tata, here to babysit, and I had half an hour to get ready!

After hearing the bad news earlier in the week, A had planned a secret date night, making reservations at a hot new restaurant and arranging for Tata to babysit. Never in my life has A ever done something so thoughtful and sweet. It was particularly surprising since I know he’d had mixed feelings (okay, that is putting it mildly– he was freaking out) about the pregnancy in the first place. I don’t think he was personally bothered by the loss, which is what makes it even more amazing that he was sensitive to how I was feeling. It was such a simple thing, but I can’t tell you how much it lifted my spirits.

Apparently it’s de-lurking day? week? and since you guys have hardly been commenting at all lately, go on and give me some love!

On second thought, the story about the nurse screaming at the woman that she had an STD did not come out as funny as it was in person. I’m thinking it came out more… insensitive. But at the time, sitting in my paper gown in the exam room and listening to this going on outside my door, it was so absurd as to be funny. (Not funny that she had an STD, of course, but that she thought it was a good idea to call the GYN from the car wash, and that the nurse was so flustered as to try to speak up to be heard, rather than tell her to call back.) And, apparently, the memory was enough to get the doctor and me going again several years later. But I can definitely see how this could make me seem bitchy.

Just a friendly reminder to those of you who are interested that our first book discussion starts a week from Sunday. Hope to see you there!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Suz and I are launching a bloggy book club. Go check it out!

This is the story of one of my oldest Internet friends. This is a woman who has to endured more, much much more, than any person should, in her quest for children: IVF (4x). Miscarriage (2x). Stillbirth (2x). Moving on to adoption, she was matched with twins in Guatemala, only to find that the woman who claimed to be their birth mother did not, in fact, match their DNA.

She was matched again with two more babies, and the adoption has been progressing. She and her husband have been twice to visit these gorgeous children and have been excited preparing for the day they get to bring them home. Now this adoption, too, is at risk. Mandy explains it in more detail, but basically it looks like adoptions from Guatemala are being shut down, and at this point in time there is no provision for grandfathering adoptions already in progress.

Through everything that Mandy has endured, there’s never been anything concrete that I could do to help. Now, finally, there is something: I can write a letter to my congressmen, asking them to put pressure on the DOS to require Guatemala to follow current law and proceed with IN PROCESS adoption cases where families have already received permission from the U.S. to adopt, and are already registered with the Guatemalan Government. And I can ask you to do the same. Please go see the details on her blog, and help Mandy bring Noah and Lily home.