Thursday, July 14, 2005
Connecticut
So I’m out on a business trip. I flew into the White Planes airport, went out to the street to wait for my car to take me away to my hotel.
For those of you who have not been to CT before, it’s home to many of these small, weird analytical firms (one I work for among them) and more so, America’s oldest money -New England. So waiting for the car to pick me up, I saw more Mercedes, BMWs, Porshes, and other exotic, expensive European cars (not a Cadillac in sight).
So off to the hotel I go. . . an hour drive through New York’s most elite suburbs and the discrete corporate parks that line the Hutch along Connecticut.
Today was my last day of training on the statistical analyses done here -- thank God -- but am staying an additional day to meet and mingle with people. . . getting to know the firm. In any other circumstance, this trip would have bored me out of my mind: the co-worker and fellow new hire staying in this hotel is not only physically disgusting (it’s difficult to have a conversation with him without staring at a protruding brown tooth) but dreadfully boring and arrogant. Trying to come up with excuses not to dine with him in the evenings required a couple Oscar award-winning performances. So I’ve tried to keep a low profile and get some work done in my room in the evenings.
You see, this training could not have come at a worse time: the client needs modeling results by the end of the month and I’ve had to work out of my room in the evenings to get results to the client manager the following AM.
This is, of course, all until Rob calls and comes down from New York for drinks: We would go out to the gay bars here in Stamford and Norwalk. (I’m just trying to find out a way to expense it!) And, just like the old days, I would drag myself into work the next morning with a raging hangover.
The old days. . . God, I miss it in this neck of the woods!
So I’m out on a business trip. I flew into the White Planes airport, went out to the street to wait for my car to take me away to my hotel.
For those of you who have not been to CT before, it’s home to many of these small, weird analytical firms (one I work for among them) and more so, America’s oldest money -New England. So waiting for the car to pick me up, I saw more Mercedes, BMWs, Porshes, and other exotic, expensive European cars (not a Cadillac in sight).
So off to the hotel I go. . . an hour drive through New York’s most elite suburbs and the discrete corporate parks that line the Hutch along Connecticut.
Today was my last day of training on the statistical analyses done here -- thank God -- but am staying an additional day to meet and mingle with people. . . getting to know the firm. In any other circumstance, this trip would have bored me out of my mind: the co-worker and fellow new hire staying in this hotel is not only physically disgusting (it’s difficult to have a conversation with him without staring at a protruding brown tooth) but dreadfully boring and arrogant. Trying to come up with excuses not to dine with him in the evenings required a couple Oscar award-winning performances. So I’ve tried to keep a low profile and get some work done in my room in the evenings.
You see, this training could not have come at a worse time: the client needs modeling results by the end of the month and I’ve had to work out of my room in the evenings to get results to the client manager the following AM.
This is, of course, all until Rob calls and comes down from New York for drinks: We would go out to the gay bars here in Stamford and Norwalk. (I’m just trying to find out a way to expense it!) And, just like the old days, I would drag myself into work the next morning with a raging hangover.
The old days. . . God, I miss it in this neck of the woods!
# posted by otas : 3:18 PM
