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Today it is raining to prevent me from going to the gym. The heavens, i'm convinced, wants me to remain fat, dramatic and ugly. I'm sure there are other reasons for the rain but I can't figure them out. Today is Orange Polo's last day of work before he goes on vacation for two weeks. Orange Polo is the cute boy I work with who consistently wears this orange polo which has since faded to a muddy orange which he has now traded in for an actual red polo. I think its cute (i think he's cute). This was his 5th year anniversary at Citi and we ate cake and took pictures and celebrated on behalf of his five long agonizing years of Citi-service. What is the reward for 5 years of Citi-service?--an extra week of vacation. Kudos to Orange Polo.
The night Michael Jackson died i was headed into work early. It was a Thursday and the men in my department were revolting against the company dress code which disallows those with external organs the comfort of wearing shorts when it gets to hot. The women, who by policy, are allowed skirts and capris often abuse their privilege by slightly wearing items above the knee and getting away with it. So the Thursday Michael died all the men were suppose to be dressed in capris. I was on the second floor between Jamba Juice and the elevators when Jerome called me and said Michael Jackson just died. I shout "bullshit" over the floor of trafficking pedestrians straining to catch their train rides home and had to slap my mouth shut for fear of causing anymore of a scene. My first reaction to was to make a public announcement and stop everyone in their tracks but I refrained and called Karen, then Lorraine upstairs, and then Keith instead. Michale hadn't died yet. The news was that he went into cardiac arrest and was rushed to the hospital. Moments after that did he die.
The revolution at work went well. The fear was that being out of dress code would get us sent home or written up or something to the like but nothing remotely that serious happened. Instead Don, our manager, mentioned to Lavon, one of our leads, that his attire looked inappropriate. Don went on to say that everyone else seemed to be in code but Lavon, he assured, was not. Balderdash. After work we had 4 dollar martini's at Bar Louie in Hyde Park-- Yolanda, Lavon, Damon and I. Damon came late, unashamed in his Citi Bank t-shirt and badge slung around his neck. Lavon and I had three cocktails, Damon and Yolanda had two, there was a fight outside of the bar...we stayed until they closed. I love the people at work.
They played Michael Jackson in this commemorative repeat on every radio station. It was the news of the century and everyone had commentary because everyone felt affected. I'm not even a Michael Jackson fan but I recognize what he stood for to a generation of people, a generation of artists...he was a public commodity, a musical icon, a Bethoveen among influences and all of a sudden gone. It reminds you that no one's the exception to this. Incredible.
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