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| Working at a desk in Paris |
The morning journey went smoothly, I got to St. Pancras with no
problems, got through security and on the train, where all thoughts of working
generally went out the window and I just passed out. I slept fitfully on the train, before upon
arrival in Paris, I got the Metro to the hotel, checked in, and even made a quick
stop to buy postage stamps for the postcards I wanted to send from Paris.
I checked into the hotel, got to my room, let my boss know I was there,
and took a little bit of time to fix my appearance before going to meet
her. (I looked a bit worse for wear
after travelling, I’m afraid!)
I must have looked presentable by the time I met her downstairs
however, as her absolute first comment upon seeing me in person for the first
time was, “You’re so pretty!”
Which, when you think about it, was quite possibly the most bizarre
thing she possibly could have said.
After all, if you were meeting someone in person for the first time
after corresponding with them for two months, you probably would have said, “So
lovely to finally meet in person” or something to that effect. But “You’re so pretty”? A man would never have dared to say that, and
it just still seemed strange coming from a work colleague.
Still, I shook off my discomfort, and we grabbed a cab to the
office. Although in another twist, I
found myself being the one to lead the way to the taxi rank, negotiate with the
driver to give him the address, and just take care of everything. This was to start a pattern throughout the
week where I just ran the show on all small details like this, from cabs to
restaurants to asking for anything. It
seemed a bit strange that the most junior person in the group was always the
one to take charge, but my boss seemed to find it almost a funny joke after a
while, that I was the one paying all the bills and running the show. I remember when I was in Buenos Aires with my
boss then, much the same pattern emerged, although that was understandable
because I spoke fluent Spanish and he didn’t.
My French is non-existent however, so me being the person in charge
seemed like a bit of an odd choice!
We got to the office and continued the pattern of me being in charge,
so I was the one left to get our access badges, find the office, and so
forth. Maybe my boss was still in a daze
after her red-eye flight, but it wasn’t exactly like I’d gotten a ton of sleep
either.
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| Touchdown desks in the office |
When we were both starving (I hadn’t eaten since 4:30 AM in London), we
went and joined the marketing contact who had also just flown in from Atlanta,
and went for lunch. I spoke to the
waiter and got our table and everything, and then found myself explaining the
menu as best I could to the both of them.
(Did I mention that I don’t speak French?) Yet I did a lot better job on translating
their dishes than mine, as when mine came out, it was a giant pile of raw
meat! No joke, it looked like they’d
brought out a pound of raw hamburger meat and cracked a raw egg on top of
it. I couldn’t believe it. Could this possibly be healthy or safe to
eat?
Yet, not wanting to admit my mistake to the others (after I’d so
confidently ordered and translated their dishes), I gamely dove in and
attempted to eat as much of the stuff as I could. It absolutely turned my stomach however, as
the battle between absolute starvation and stomach churning food battled it
out.
Finally we got to the end of the meal, where somehow it was up to me to
pay. Except my corporate credit card
wasn’t working (I’d been thinking I needed to call Amex before I left, but had
never gotten around to it), so I eventually just had to put the bill on my
British credit card. What a mess,
although at least it seemed to amuse my boss that I was the one paying. Thank goodness for putting things on expenses…
It was a strange lunch, with my boss and the marketing lady basically
being bitchy and talking about other people who irritated them. Now, to be fair, I definitely will bitch
about people who annoy me with my closest friends, particularly when I need a
rant. Still, I wouldn’t dare do it in
front of other people, particularly not a new work colleague who I didn’t know
at all. Quite frankly, it didn’t reflect
well on either of them, but I kept that counsel to myself, obviously.
Given that I hadn’t cared much for my meal, I was still quite hungry,
but we had to power on through for the rest of the day, up until we were kicked
out of our little office, and then had to go find other places to work. I kept hoping that we might call it a night
soon (one other guy e-mailed out that he had a place to go for dinner at 8:30,
but we worked right past that deadline), until finally it was 11:30pm and my boss
finally consented to leave the office. I
was tripping I was so hungry, although trying my best to maintain a cheerful
demeanor. Somebody had to, as my boss
was becoming super grumpy, acting as though she were the only one stuck up
working, even as I wanted to point out, “Ummm…you realise I’m still stuck here
too?”
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| Stuck in the office at 11 PM |
As we made our way out of the office, we discovered that it was
absolutely abandoned, and we were literally the last people left in the
place. The front doors were locked up
tight with a metal grate over them, making me wonder if we were going to have
to sneak out through a tiny door the way I had in the past with my boss in
Buenos Aires. At last however, we found
an open exit, and got out that way. We
got cabs back to the hotel, where I was ready to eat my arm, I was so
hungry. I had never done room service
before, but I guessed I would have to, I was so famished.
So you can imagine my dismay when I went through the room and couldn’t
find a room service menu anywhere. Are
you kidding me?
I debated just going to sleep hungry, but I realised there was no way I
could manage it. So although I was
exhausted, I put on my coat and headed out into the night, hoping that I might
encounter a McDonald’s or some late-night dining establishment before too long. I had to walk for quite a bit, but finally
spotted a kebab house down a dark alleyway.
I got a cheeseburger and chips for about 6 Euro, and then walked back to
my hotel room with it, to wash it down with water from the tap. Amazing to think I was in Paris, the land of
amazing food, and I’d eaten two of the most miserable meals of my life this
day.
And now, with only a little over four hours to sleep, I crashed into
bed as fast as I could.
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