Girl and City

So I had an utterly exhausting weekend. Mostly because I slept about 10 hours in total since Thursday. Coffee saved me. Every. Single. Day.

I had a conference in The City the last few days. In order not to miss class, I went to an 8:00AM class on Thursday morning, then got on the train for The City. On the train, I ran into a classmate who was also heading into The City for interviews (it’s summer recruiting season for him). I had wanted to sleep on the train, but no luck. Instead, he spent two hours running his mouth off about all the interviews he had¹. When I got off the train, I wanted to take a taxi to the hotel, because I didn’t want to walk the two blocks with my luggage. Yeah, I was tired and lazy. But the taxi driver wouldn’t take me! He said it was too close, I should just walk. So he literally dumped me on the sidewalk.

By the time I arrived at the hotel, the cocktail reception had already started. I checked into my room to realize that I had roommates. Three roommates, no less. Was this a joke?
When I realized the conference organizers weren’t joking, that I was expected to share a bed with a complete stranger, I was not amused. Two of my roommates were in first year, and my bed-mate was in fourth year. They were all from the commerce program of The Other University.
I quickly staked my claim by unpacking my stuff over as much area as possible (their shit seemed to have exploded all over the hotel room and bathroom counter – although I should have expected that when I realized there were going to be four girls sharing one very small bathroom), and changed into a business casual dress for the reception.

At the reception, I realized that of the 100 delegates, about 15 were external delegates (including myself). That means that only 15 people were from another university, and the rest of the 85 people were from The Other University. The Other University and The Business School are rivals, so I tried to avoid the question, “So what school are you from?” lest the mob descend on me on the first night.
It got worse. I also realized that most of the delegates were first and second year students. I was probably one of four upper-year students.
Let me explain the gravity of the situation. I was in enemy territory, surrounded by nearly 100 people who did not go to my school and did not like my school. I was also surrounded by nearly 100 people who were barely of age and were running around asking for fake IDs so they could go to the evening bar festivities. They were so naive that they had no idea what the difference between finance, accounting, and consulting were, and was under the delusion that they could get a career in any industry they wanted. I wanted to strangle them.
Suffice to say, this was not my scene. (more…)

1. He had literally gotten every single interview. He had second rounds from every single investment bank as well as the top three consulting firms. This kid was impressive. [↩]

Things I love about December, in no particular order:

• Christmas lights on people’s houses and lawn ornaments that turn the entire neighbourhood into an enchanted fairyland.
• Taking advantage of holiday sales to buy presents for others and myself.
• Wearing boots. Every day.
• Gourmet chocolates. Every holiday, I can count on some distant colleagues to give me boxes of gourmet chocolates. By the end of the holidays, I’m sick of them, but after the holidays are over, I find myself looking forward to the next round of gourmet chocolates in gift-wrapped boxes.
• Hot chocolate, Starbucks’ peppermint mocha, and other winter-themed drinks.
• Christmas trees and tree ornaments. Putting the Christmas tree up is an annual event that involves the entire family.
• Wrapping presents. I always spend one night wrapping all my presents and it makes me feel so satisfied to look at the pile of wrapping paper, tissue paper, bows, and ribbons under the tree when I’m done.
• Presents, of course. Although my family hasn’t done a proper “Christmas morning present-opening” ceremony in five consecutive years. I wonder if it will ever make a come-back now that I am moving away from home.
• Ample excuse to drink a different bottle of wine every night, which includes champagne and ice wine.
• Curling beside the fireplace with a good book, a rug on my lap, and my dog sleeping soundly beside me. This sort of picturesque postcard moment only seems to happen in December.

Happy December, everyone!

Peking duck and xiao long bao¹ in Chinatown
French wines with regional names I cannot pronounce²
Red, white, and rosé wines drunk out of order
These are a few of my favourite things

Chocolate mousse cake for a decadent dessert
21 candles on the 21st day
POP goes the champagne and a toast to SG
These are a few of my favourite things

“To SassyGirl!” they cheer, their smiling faces
Aglow with happinesss for their childhood friend
My face mirroring their smiles and laughter
These are a few of my favourite things

Surrounded by old friends, joking and laughing
Drinking too much wine and playing strip poker
Spilling half a bottle of wine on my clothes
These are a few of my favourite things

Sleeping over at LaserDodgingBoy’s place
Stay up talking and bonding until 3am
Wake up very hungover and late for work
These are a few of my favourite things.

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I am 21! Thank you for all the birthday wishes – you’re right, it did turn out into a much better day than it started. :)

1. Steamed soup dumplings. [↩]
2. OBF had carried them back with her from France and had been saving them for a special occasion – they really were great wines. [↩]

“Girls Night Out or Girls Gone Wild?” was the question I was trying to answer this Saturday night with WAF. We’d been planning a staycation for this weekend because we both needed to let out some steam. To get the best bang for our buck, we booked one night at a hostel¹ and planned to start the weekend off right, with shopping and cocktails, followed by pre-drinking at a lounge and ending the night at a club.

At noon on Friday, we were just finalizing our plans via a flurry of excited emails² when I received an email from LawyerMan asking if I still wanted to work for him as a legal assistant at his firm. I hadn’t heard from him since the interview, where he had made it abundantly clear that I was grossly underqualified for the position. I had interpreted the lack of communication as “I am too busy to even email you to let you know that, like I said at the interview, I don’t want you,” and left it at that. When I read his email, a simple one-liner asking if I was still interested in the position, I jumped at the opportunity and immediately said yes. I asked him when he wanted me to start. He said Monday.

Keep in mind that not only was I currently working, but I was in a different city! What kind of employer emails you on Friday afternoon to tell you to come in on Monday? Did he think I’d been sitting on my ass, twiddling my thumbs for the entire four weeks since the interview?
But of course I said yes, because I was afraid he’d change his mind. After all, this was the sort of opportunity that could really help me with my career, even if the opportunity came with an inconsiderate boss.
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1. two summers ago, I had stayed at hostel with Zee and ER so I was comfortable with it, but this time we were staying at a different hostel, so I wasn’t sure if it would be sketchy or not. It turned out to be quite clean, although the location was a bit sketchy. [↩]
2. Both of us were at work and, apparently, not that dedicated to our jobs. [↩]

I’ve always dreamed of spontaneous road trips to exciting cities with equally exciting friends. This weekend, my dream was realized. Early Saturday morning, my friends and I piled into SRB‘s car and headed to Montreal.

Montreal, one of the largest French-speaking city outside of France, the city of smoked meat and designer fashion, Canada’s cultural capital, and the birthplace of the Montreal bagel.
For us, it was a city with all this and more. It was a city where you can buy wine and beer from any dépanneur (convenient store), of which there were many. Suddenly, we were no longer constrained by the short hours and sparse locations of the LCBO (the only licensed retailer of alcohol in Ontario) when we felt like filling up with wine instead of food. It was a city where you couldn’t turn right on red lights. It was a city where we were immediately identifiable as aliens because we spoke English¹. It was a city where there was a boulangerie (bakery) on almost every street, and every single one was better than any bakery I’ve ever walked into in The City. It was a city where people were better dressed, better dined, and better wined.

(more…)

1. Although most people in Montreal are bilingual, certain parts of the city contain more English-speakers than others. We only encountered one waiter who couldn’t speak English almost at all. Nonetheless, French is the preferred language, and some locals treat Anglophones (especially tourists) differently. [↩]