And just like that...

It was August. August 8th. So much for consistent entries.

New Year's Resolutions:
1. Find new job
2. Blog regularly--wait a minute, please refer to #1

I'm blaming part of my inconsistency on the fact that I'm afraid to blog at work (God forbid I get fired!) and the other part on my tendency to get easily distracted (wow, is that cursor BLINKING???). Anyway, for what it's worth, my apologies.

I've been wondering where the hell my summer went, and I suspect it's hidden somewhere behind the 3 blinding Bloomberg screens that I have had the pleasure of squinting at all day long. It's sort of like looking at the sun, except that I'm 1) still pasty white 2) sitting in a totally ergonomically incorrect seat rather than, say, a chaise lounge and 3) I'm very, very bitter. Where's my margarita??? Where's my sunburn??? Has anyone seen the ice cream truck??? It seems as though I should be spending more of my days barefoot in the grass outdoors, listening to the crickets and cicadas and enjoying the extended daylight, but I have yet to construct a convincing argument as to why I should either be able to relocate my operations outdoors or take the remainder of the summer off. On the plus side, I did stay nice and cool during that oppressive heat wave last week as the office temperature is consistenly lower than our moral standards, necessitating the introduction of a sweater and blanket to my typical summer attire.

Everyone has been in and out of the office as a result of scheduled vacations, so things have been pretty quiet (work-wise). This hasn't translated into shorter days, but it feels as though there has been less chaos to deal with, even in spite of Paul's ticket-writing bender last week. He was on such a roll...and then I start getting tickets missing vital information, or with incorrect information. Examples: ticket doesn't indicate which commodity he traded, ticket has an options price but states that it was a future, wrong forward dates, wrong quantities--he's even screwed up his own initials! I know that a lot of the previous sentence may make no sense to you, so, in summary, he made a lot of mistakes and it took time to unravel them (which is what I'm there for). I cut him some slack as he is moving, and that whole process has given him myriad problems that I can't identify with (ah, the trials and tribulations of finding matching slabs of marble). He finally closed this week, however, so the grace period is over. No more mister nice guy.***

Greg is out this week, which means longer hours for Katie and I. I've actually been !!!EARLY!!! the past two days (disclaimer: "early" as used in this sentence and subsequent ones may mean "on time" and is subject to A's discretion) to ensure that the morning processes run smoothly. Paul noticed, expressed his gratitude and told me it wasn't necessary (though we both know it is). One of the models I've been setting up tracks the funds' various positions throughout the day. I know this sounds fancy, but basically involves cut and paste in an Excel notebook. Don't act like you aren't impressed. Still, I was shown this twice prior to Greg's departure, and the cutting/pasting process is somewhat complicated. The information this model supplies is very important, and I'm claiming the fact that it seems to be spitting out the correct information as a small victory. I have to get there early and throw it all together as Paul often asks me for another report that can only be run after this first model is set up. In a way, I wish someone would ask me for the information that the model produces rather than Katie since I DID set it up and would like to try and prove that I'm neither lazy nor incompetent. It's assumed that she sets it up, but what can you do. I've never been one to seek out attention or recognition for my actions, but it's getting to a point where I'm going to need Paul to vouch for me if anyone asks.

My "huh" moment occurred today as I passed Bill on the way to Stop and Shop and he gave me a high five. Completely random. An effective means of nonverbal communication, but I'm not sure what its workplace interpretation is, so I'm assuming it's, "YourulebutI'mnotsureyou'recutoutforfinancewhyareyoustillhererunrunlikehell!" I could be wrong. He recently returned from vacation and took tons of pictures, all of which I look forward to viewing. I figure a slideshow accompanied by a little blurb about each picture is bound to kill twenty minutes or so...maybe three, if he explains them all with a single high five.

If I hear that Paris Hilton song on the way to work again tomorrow morning, I'm finding myself a large tree to introduce to my Jetta.


***"Gal" sounds strange there, and I think I've been overexposed to testosterone during the day anyway. This has lead to several undesirable side effects including a failure to remember important dates, a craving for cheeseburgers and beer, an inability to multitask and an obsession with checking www.espn.com every 5 minutes. Please send "Dirty Dancing," "Sleepless in Seattle," a box of tissues, recordings of "I Will Survive" (Gloria Gaynor version) and "I'm Every Woman" (Whitney Houston pre-Bobby Brown/crack addiction), some Lindt chocolate, 1 copy each of Glamour, Cosmopolitan, and Marie Claire and a box of tampons posthaste. Actually, nevermind.