I have been working my ass off. I’m barely sleeping. I stopped writing. My personal time is always booked up with friends, family, or dates…other commitments, meetings. Book club Monday night. Writing class now every Tuesday. Wednesday date. Burning Man meeting on Thursday. Tonight date. Tomorrow date. This Sunday is the day of rest. I’m so excited. I think I’ll sit in the steam room all day long.
Tuesday of this week = worst day ever
I was in the office at 7am. I got into an argument with my Associate Director over what to include or not include in our CEO’s testimony regarding our use of TARP funding. We were on a conference call all day long, practicing the testimony, coaching our CEO, timing the testimony, grilling him on all the questions he might get from Congress and how we should respond. It was grueling. By the time I was done at work, I was spent. I considered passing on my writing class, but I couldn’t justify the expense and also…I am learning a lot from this teacher. I must use every single moment to absorb her lessons. So I’m driving over to class when I notice there’s something very wrong with my car. I get out and the tire is not just flat, but completely irreparable. I pull over safely to metered parking and abandon my car, figuring I will deal with it after class. My class is by the ball park. The flat tire happened in the Financial District. I remove all the heavy stuff from my bag: umbrella, extra books, notepads. I hike up to my class. By the time class is over, there’s a torrential downpour. Of course, I left my umbrella in the car! I’m soaking wet by the time I get to my car. Triple-A says they’ll send someone out in an hour or two. I decide to check my messages and the guy my matchmaker has set me up with leaves one that begins, “Hello there, Christine.” I’m furious. I call him back to lay it on him. He answers confidently, “Is this Christine?” I scream, “NO THIS IS CATHERINE. CATHERINE! MY NAME IS CATHERINE.” A bunch of his friends all cackle in the background at his error.
Poor guy. I feel bad for him. It was a mistake. And I know it’s a mistake because a lot of people mistake me for a Christine. That same night my teacher had called me “Christine” even though my name plate was clearly labeled “Catherine.” So I know it happens.
Too bad it happened three times (once from my teacher and twice from the guy I’m being setup with) on a very bad day.