Girl and City

Yesterday, The Business School threw a banquet for the graduating class of 2010 (that’s me!) and it was awesome.
Normally, I’m not into banquets and such because they’re boring, the food is bad, and I hate having to make small talk to fill the time. But this was basically the last hurrah for my Business School peers and I, and I was going to make the most of it.

We started drinking at 4pm at one of my classmate’s house, because obviously by now we are alcoholics and need to have a pre-drink before every single conceivable event. The weather was beautiful and we took tons of prom-esque pictures on his patio. I tried to be in as many pictures as possible because I had spent hours curling my hair¹, and obviously everyone needed a reminder of my beautiful face in their photo albums.
It was so great to see my old classmates all together again², and everyone looked beautiful in their suits and dresses. Despite the fact that I would not consider most of these people my best friends, even feeling like an outsider at times, I know I won’t see some of these people ever again, and certainly not all together like this, so I tried to savour every moment. It was an afternoon spent in the sun, toasting to our youth, congratulating ourselves on surviving Business School, and anticipating what’s to come. (more…)

1. The process of getting my hair to curl (and stay curled) was a Herculean task. I’ve only used a curling iron once before, when I was 18, so I burned myself several times in the process. [↩]
2. Last year, we all had the same classes together as a ‘section’, but the sections got split up this year. [↩]

Dear SnootyAsianGirl,

I never had a good first impression of you, but I wanted to give you a chance by including you in our negotiations team. What do I get in return? You are a clueless, useless member of the team, and all you do is flirt with the guys on the other team. When you took the wrong hand-out at the end of last class and ended up being unprepared for our negotiation, do you remember the first thing you said? “SG, I think you gave me the wrong hand-out!” Um, no. You took the wrong hand-out, and then I chased you down as you were leaving to give you the right one, and you STILL ended up reading the wrong one!
You seemed like a smart girl at first, but now I am having serious doubts. I mean, if you realized you read the wrong hand-out, you probably aren’t in a position to negotiate concessions with the other team when you don’t even know what you’re talking about. When we were close to reaching a deal, you randomly started threatening them, breaking down all the rapport we had built with the other team. In those situations, shouldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? How clueless are you?

So, please, do us all a favour – for this week’s negotiation, just be quiet. In fact, don’t even show up to class at all. I’m sure the rest of us will do just fine without you.

Your Frustrated Team-mate,
SassyGirl

—-

Dear CockyBlondeJock,

You are an arrogant prick, and I don’t like you. I don’t know why you insist on teasing/flirting with me every chance you get but it is getting really annoying, so please STOP. What else do I have to do for you to get the message that I don’t want to talk to you? I’ve already tried ignoring you, dissing you in front of your friends, and yelling at you to leave me alone. Seriously, how stubborn are you? There are plenty of other girls in our school who would gladly flirt with you, why don’t you bother one of them? If you have an Asian fetish, there are plenty of other Asian girls here. If you have a petite girl fetish, there are also plenty of petite girls. But if you have a SassyGirl fetish, I can’t help you.

Not Interested,
SassyGirl

—

Dear BoysFromClub(s),

I am really liking the new trend of asking to dance with me as opposed to just rubbing yourselves against my behind. Thank you for that. Unfortunately, the answer is still, “No.”

Nice Try,
SassyGirl

—

Dear Value Investing,

I hate you. Every day, I wonder why I took your course. I don’t care that it worked for Buffet, it is not something I plan to do. And yet you continue to punish me with these dense annual reports of companies I’ve never heard of. Why, why, why do you torture me like this?

Your Anti-Disciple,
SassyGirl

—

Dear Value Investing Group Members,

If you can’t speak English, don’t write the report. And if you ask me to edit it for you, then why did you still hand in the unedited version? Thanks for wasting my time.

Ungratefully,
SassyGirl

At first glance, I fit the “nerd” stereotype. I’m smart, I do well in school, I’m good with computers (bonus points for having an online persona), and I wear glasses. But that is where the stereotype ends. I drink, I party, and I make friends wherever I go.

I am also a slacker.
Most people equate good grades with studious. But this is an illogical conclusion. Case in point. This morning, I had a four-hour exam. I spent the entire week watching Queen Seon Duk, a 62-episode Korean period drama, telling myself I would study when I got back to University Town. I got back on Monday, and spent the entire day yesterday watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy¹. I spent an hour in the morning blow-drying and straightening my hair². And I spent most of the four hours during the exam trying to scrape off the chipped nail polish on my fingernails.

But I wouldn’t be surprised if I got an A on the exam. It’s happened before.

If my friends knew how little I study (for exams or in general), I think they would all stop being my friends. So I always pretend to be studious when it’s close to exam time, and I always pull in my weight for team projects. After four years of university, my peers have yet to realize what a slacker I am.

1. I suppose that earns me extra nerd points, but to be honest, it was because I had no other DVDs in my apartment, and I wanted to watch something on our plasma TV as opposed to on my computer. [↩]
2. I always have to look good for exams. I don’t know when this ritual started, but I cannot allow myself to go to an exam with sweatpants and messy hair. I may look like that all week, but at the exam, I will look pristine. [↩]

“You should see the way the girls in New York swarm around the geezers once they find out they’re bankers,” I said in between mouthfuls of fried rice. “It’s disgusting. They’re old!”
My lunch companion laughed. “But from the bankers’ perspective, it’s their only hope. I mean when else are they going to get any action?” GSB said. “Their hours are too long for them to have any kind of real relationship.”
“Why even bother having a relationship? Did you read that quote on Overheard at The Business School? ‘I don’t understand why people have relationships in The Business School. It’s like an extra-curricular you can’t put on your resume.’ It’s exactly like that.”
“So they don’t have relationships. They just have a few girls on their speed-dial that they can call. Call-girls,” he said earnestly.
“Are you being serious?” I could never be sure when discussing the banker lifestyle with a banker, since he would be joining their ranks in a few short months.
“Yeah. Well a lot of times when they have an event or when they go out, they don’t want to be embarrassed by not having a girlfriend. So they have a few regular girls that they call upon.”
I made a face of disgust. “Too bad it doesn’t work the other way around.”
“Why not? You could have call-boys. Just tell them how much you make,” he said, this time I was sure he was joking.
“And what, offer to pay them to be my boyfriend for the night, weekend, whatever?”
He laughed, “Yeah I guess it doesn’t work as well for girls.”
“The attraction of money and success doesn’t work in the other direction. Girls will be all over a successful, wealthy man, but guys aren’t the same,” I said, with a hint of bitterness. “Plus, it’s even harder for consultants than bankers, we’re on the move all the time.”
“That’s true. So you could have a call-boy in every city, however long you’re there.”
“I’ve already started collecting names,” I said, giving him a wink. If GSB played his cards right, he could be on my list. After all, he was going to be in Hong Kong. That’s just a short hop from Singapore.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I met a guy at a conference. GS Japan. If I have a project in Tokyo, I’m thinking we could hook up.”
GSB shook his head in disbelief. “You are something.”

I seem to amaze people, although I am at a loss for why. Maybe they just don’t see it coming – you know, innocent little me, planning to have boytoys in every major city in Asia? Or any other scheme I come up with, really.

Later that day…

“Let’s meet in the morning on Sunday and spend as long as we need to to get through these cases.”
“9am?” Someone suggested. “That’s when we normally have class anyway.”
“I don’t think I can make it for 9. How about 10?” I piped up.
“Why? Do you have plans in the morning?”
“Well… sort of,” I said sheepishly. My teammates looked at me, waiting for me to continue. Finally, I said, “I have to make breakfast. You know, weekend breakfasts are pretty elaborate, they take time.”
Everyone burst into laughter. Then, when they realized I was being serious, they stared at me incredulously. “Your plans… are to make breakfast?”
“Well, normally I can eat breakfast on the go. But on weekends, I usually make a big breakfast – you know, scrambled eggs, pancakes… it takes time.”
Now they were looking at me like I was an alien. What? Was I so crazy to want to make myself a good breakfast once a week?
GSB finally chuckled and shook his head. “You are…” he trailed off, at a loss for words.
As the rest of my group begrudgingly agreed to meet at 10, I smiled smugly. Maybe I was “something” but I was going to have a big yummy breakfast on Sunday morning, and that’s all that mattered.

Classes have started, although that is not as ominous as it sounds. Last semester, I had to take a couple mandatory courses that were dreadfully boring, but this semester is all electives. So in order to pick ones that I will actually enjoy (it is my last opportunity to get a bang for my buck tuition-wise), I registered myself in eight courses even though I am only allowed five. So after I went to the first class of each, I had to cut three. The result? I have an excellent schedule and some very interesting classes.

One of my classes is called “Global Strategy,” taught by a Taiwanese professor with a very thick Chinese accent. Half the time, I can’t understand what he’s saying, and I’m Chinese! It doesn’t help that listening to him speak makes me want to laugh. I can’t even hold it in, it’s that bad. His accent is so classically Asian, he can’t pronounce ses for the life of him, and he kind of makes up his own sounds when he doesn’t know exactly how something is pronounced. Like “strategy” comes out sounding like “training” – I mean, how do you even do that?
But even without the accent, he is a very amusing professor. In our first class, he was trying to convince us of the necessity of this class by showing us the extent of globalization (foreigners invading our home environment even if we don’t have any intention to go abroad).
“You wake up in the morning, you put on your underwear, made in China. You put on your jeans, made in Bangladesh. You put on your t-shirt, made in Pakistan. You drive to school in your car made in Japan. You buy a coffee, imported from Columbia. And then you get to class and you realize, your professor is imported from Taiwan!” (Imagine this whole monologue with a thick Chinese accent, the kind that Russel Peters imitates.)

Anyway, other than school, I have been trying, unsuccessfully, to get things back on track with PLB. I knew a month-long break at the start of a (potential) relationship would be hazardous, and I was completely right.
Actually, it’s more my fault that his. Ever since we came back from the holidays, I have been really awkward around him. It’s not like I want to be, but I just get really nervous around him, because now we are both fairly aware that we like each other¹. He was in my first class when I came back, and I didn’t prepare myself at all for that, so I barely acknowledged him there and left right after class. The second morning (we had the same class again), he did come over to talk to me, but I wasn’t really helping the conversation and avoided his eyes the whole time. The same sort of thing happened over and over again as we ran into each other over the next few days; I would be too nervous to flirt or say something remotely interesting, even if I told myself not to freeze up.
I was hopeless, and my awkwardness was going to ruin this!

Last night, I decided to try to redeem myself. I was going to Zee’s going-away party², and afterward, DG and I were going to The Club (the club that The Business School students go to every Thursday night). He was going to be there, that much I knew. So I drank, a little bit more and a little bit faster than normal, at the going-away party, so I was sufficiently drunk (but not sloppy) by the time we got to The Club. He was one of the first people we ran into, but it was in passing so I didn’t get to talk to him. The rest of the night I spent switching between the dance floor and the table where he was sitting. But every time I went to their table, some guy I knew would spot me and come over to talk to me. Many of them were my classmates from last year, so we’d always be very excited to see each other (one guy even picked me up and twirled me around – he’s really strong). I don’t know how it looked to PLB, that every time I sat down, a new guy would come to the table. Somehow, I wasn’t sure the jealousy card was a viable strategy for me at that point. In between guys, I tried to have a conversation with him, but it was hard with the loud music. I did find it more easy to talk to him, and flirt, now that I had lost my nervousness. But still, he did not make a move.

DG got frustrated and decided that I needed to redeem my self-respect, so she dragged me away from him for nearly an hour. When we went to the washroom, we ran into him at coat-check. He was leaving?!
I waited outside the washroom for DG so that he would have an opportunity to talk to me. He did come over, explaining how he had an interview the next day so he didn’t want to party too hard tonight. Understandable, but I was still disappointed. We hugged a couple times, but he seemed no more interested in me than any other guy I’d seen that night.

DG was more upset that PLB left than I was. “What the hell is wrong with him?” She shouted, a little too loudly. A guy nearby overheard us and said, “Forget him. I would never ditch a girl like you.” I rolled my eyes as a signal for him to move on³. Why was it that, today of all days, when the last thing I felt like was hooking up with a random guy, guys would hit on me so aggressively? Even the cab driver had offered to go out with me to “make that guy jealous.” (Yeah, I was pretty creeped out. I mean, obviously cab drivers eavesdrop, but isn’t it a cardinal rule to pretend not to be able to hear the passengers? Much less getting yourself involved and hitting on a girl at least ten years your junior?)
“Come on, let’s go get you a guy,” DG said as she dragged me to the dance floor.
“But I don’t want a guy,” I whined, although I didn’t think she heard me.

In the end, DG found a guy, and I went home alone. Am I really that pathetic? I guess I am.

1. God, I hope so. Because if I’m just making things up in my head again, I am going to feel like a huge fool. [↩]
2. She’s going to Australia for medical school at the end of the week. [↩]
3. Later, that guy found me on the dance floor and I literally had to push him away and tell him, “I don’t want to dance with you!” before he got the message. [↩]