Notes from the Under...stimulated

Aha. I figured it out.

it's all coming together now. the sometimes nausea, sometimes fatigue, the sometimes mentally retarded/defective behavior of most people i worked with on a daily basis... it's because this isn't really a bank, it's secretly a thalidomide factory. WHY ELSE WOULD I HAVE BEEN USING A PEN THAT SAID THALIDOMIDE ON IT FOR THE PAST MONTHS? (i don't know what it means about me and the functionality of my brain that i never noticed this before, but....)

Thalidomide was first introduced in the 1950s as a sedative and because it was deemed to be so safe, it was prescribed for nausea and insomnia in pregnant women. However, it was found to be the cause of severe birth defects in children whose mothers had taken the drug in their first trimester of pregnancy. This was a terrible tragedy, the suffering of which is still being felt today. As a consequence the drug was never approved for distribution in the United States.

In 1998, Celgene received approval from the US Food and Drug Administration to market THALOMID® (thalidomide) [ed note: that's what it says on the pen] for the cutaneous manifestations of moderate to severe erythema nodosum leprosum (ENL) in leprosy [ed note: LEPROSY?! sweet fucking jesus! even on my last day it's totally and completely bizarre].

And just like a magic trick, my boss disappears.

so. i haven't really had a boss, but my thin managerial ties were a direct report to this guy, who we call Magic because of a certain picture that he posted of himself on bloomberg, a chinese man in a tux and a red bow tie, but yeah. he has resigned. this will be my SIXTH manager to either leave of his own will or otherwise, not to mention the 462 other people i've worked with, but not directly reported to, that have taken their leave of this place.

the weirdest part: no one's told me yet. i mean, my friend in london told me, but no one official. does that mean i can leave for the day? what're the rules with this kind of stuff? i kind of think that without a manager, i'm just like that guy in Office Space. can i just hold on to my stapler and walk out the door until they sort all of this out? no one is taking MY stapler. you can have my dignity and my soul, but not my stapler!

Alternatives to "Goodbye!"

nothing's more annoying than staying at work late and having people walk by your desk and say "go home!" like you're choosing to hang around and run regression analyses of the Australian-less-US interest rate spread and the AUD/USD for fun.

but that's a given (that the whole "go home! you're still here???" shtick is annoying). what's not a given is the OTHER alternative to "so long, farewell, auf Weidersehen, goodbye!" i just got from someone.

i'm at my desk typing trying to figure out why the dollar tanked even though the US data wasn't so bad today, jobless claims were better than expected, GDP growth is still strong, consumer spending's gotta be robust, i'm spending enough for the whole nation, and lazza's even taking days off work to disseminate his currency

ME: *type type neck strech type*
LADY (who i don't know that well, and who i've NEVER shared food with before. and who i never want to share with, she has really bad teeth.): Bye! I left some miso soup on my desk if you're hungry!
ME: I, miso, sorry???
LADY: Go home, it's late!

at least she ended with something i'm familiar with: annoying comments. it's the offering of asian soups that i'm not prepared to handle.

Good. The market's DisaPpointed (slightly).

let's hope people take 1Q04 GDP at face value and don't realise that it's still pretty good at 4.2%. weakest part of the report (kind of) was inventories. this points to bigger growth next quarter too (when people start to restock).

i can see why inventories are weak. who's good at taking inventory? it's depressing. for example:

OCCUPATIONAL INVENTORY:
1 chewed up pen that only works when shaken
1 really bruised elbow
1 phone that needs a big paper binder to hold down the mute key (see exhibit below)
1 job that i don't particularly enjoy
3 unused napkins
4 advil liquid gels (time to reorder!)
1/2 protein bar
3 reports of other banks' research
10 people who think my name is "Lorraine"

THE PHONE

A Pickled Ghost

Me: [Big Global Bank Salutations]
Person: Is, ah, hi. I. [Pickles]?
Me: [Pickles] No longer works here. Can I help you with something?
Person: Can you have [Pickles] call me back?
Me: He no longer is with the bank-- do you have a question?
Person: Have him call me at 212-
Me: I'm sorry- he won't be getting this message. I don't talk to him because he doesn't work here anymore.
Person: [Pickles] isn't there?
Me: He isn't *working* here.
Person: He doesn't WORK there anymore?
Me: No. He's no longer with the bank.
Person: So you can't give him the message? 212-933-
Me: click

Itchy 'n Scratchy...Throat.

This lady on our desk has had the most WICKED case of itchy throat i've ever witnessed. like she's been clearing her throat like 719x a day, and loudly at that (causing me and laz to bust out in giggles every. single. time.) the REAL humor of it all is that she's a thin, peroxided english bird that Laz calls "Leather and Lace" because of her oft inappropriate attire. anyway, just now she was coughing so hard that i was thinking "Doc Holliday, is that you and your TB?". she had just turned magenta when:

Me: hey, you OK?
JG: (runs down the aisle hacking and waving her arms frantically)
Laz: Did you just ask her if she was OK?
Me: Yeah, I was going to offer to get her some water...
Laz: Oh, no. I was just confused. I've never heard you be nice before. I was sure it couldn't have been you inquiring...
Me: well, when there's potential death involved, i'll stick my neck out. otherwise, you're pretty much on your own.

Some Comments In Reaction to a Mouse Being Caught on the Trading Floor

"He's 4ft long if he's an inch my man!"
"I have stared into the eyes of the beast and won!"
"Wait- WE HAVE MICE???"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson called them 'mouses'? heh. she's the dumberest."
"Oh! He's all caught in the sticky stuff! saaaaad!" (from the one girl)

[rodents] always come in pairs.

so stinkeye called me at work today and was all somber-like saying "we have a mouse. a mouse in our apartment!" a situation that i was sympathetic to, but that i couldn't really relate to. at the time.

except now, in the office building that boasts THE HIGHEST RENT PER SQUARE FOOT IN MANHATTAN, there are mice. and bugs! BLECH! this one secretary lady is stirring up emotions to walking around being like "don't leave your bag on the floor (pause) because we got friends... and it ain't mickey mouse, lemme tell ya!"

unless this means that i can leave early (it doesn't) i don't really care. is something wrong with me?

UPDATE: the secretary lady just announced that "MICE LIKE PAPER, EVERYONE! THROW OUT YOUR PAPER!" is this even close to being true?

Life is like... a big salad.

we start talking about when we're going to lunch at like 10:29am and it's a stretch to make it to the requisite 11:30-ok-now-it-can-officially-qualify-as-lunch-time-for-those-of-us-who-get-to-work-so-early-that-on-the-weekend-that-time-still-can-be-referred-to-as-last-night. the problem really is, then by noon-thirty the afternoon stretches out in front of me like an empty, desert road with not even some tumbleweed or a bull's skull to distract me. so i try to make lunch last long as possible: feeling justified in my web surfing because it's Lunch Time, talking about the merits of certain salad dressings ("this asian ginger dressing is fantab! maybe tomorrow i'll throw some craisins in there, REALLY MIX IT UP!") wondering what heart of palm really is, oh fuckit, who cares i heart heart of palm whatever it really is, thinking "why doesn't anyone email me any more? maybe i'll start writing REAL letters again...", fantasizing about when i'll leave this godforesaken place (maybe tomorrow? I'M NEARING THE END OF MY ROPE) and about what i'll do: travel? die penniless on the street? have to sell friendship bracelets made out of embroidery string at the MIT student center and maybe in lobby 10 when it has that weirdo craft fair?

yum. big salad good in my tummy. brain powering down for post-lunch food coma.

BREAKING NEWS: another one bites the dust
In what will be a decisive blow to the Mangled Idioms Category on this site, Pickles is no longer. Employed.

Laz and I have seen so many people come and go (i mean, the first group i was in was totally and completely liquidated) during our tenure here. we don't even blink anymore. Today was a totally Seinfeldian mourning period, in that there was none.

Pickles: well. that's it. i'm leaving.
Me and Laz: (mumble something about getting to sleep late, then to each other) *shrug* wanna grab lunch?