buzz kill

The day seemed to start off ok. I was still in bed by 10 am, knowing that I had a phone interview scheduled at 1 pm, and a face-to-face interview at 4 pm. I took my time getting ready for work and was a little excited about an article of mine that was published today. So far, so good.

I took the elevator down and set out to catch a cab, and my street was pretty congested for some reason, not too common in AD at that time of day. I guess I was feeling particularly vain this morning; once in the cab, I took a little mirror out of my bag and put some lipstick on. I never wear lipstick.

Just as I had finished polishing my pout, I turned and saw a crowd gathered by the side walk, and right there in the middle of it, lying on the floor, a man. I think he was dead. Probably another pedestrian, victim of this country's crazed drivers. My heart skipped a beat and I muttered "Jesus", and the cab driver turned around and said to me: "mot", or "death" in Arabic.

I wanted to cry. The contrast between my vanity and this man's death just killed my unusual morning buzz.

I got to the office, picked up the paper, and first thing I see is this. Probably not too depressing considering I had just seen a dead man on the street, but still, I was really bothered by the news that the dead Dubai whale had been harpooned four times.

I didn't think my mood could get any worse, but it did when I got a really annoying email from the editor in chief, deciding on my behalf along with the rest of the company's suits what I should be doing. Seems our AD office isn't faring too well with Dubai's office standards, and rather than be smart about it, they decide to piss people off.

Anyway. Both my 1pm and 4 pm interviews didn't happen. The long distance phone interview guy did not pick up, even though I tried for one bloody hour. STEWART PEARCE, voice coach and well-being guru, if you're reading this, you wasted a good part of my day!

Interview number 2, I just did not have the heart to go along for. I tried to get the lady to speak to me on the phone, but little miss prissy wouldn't agree to a phone interview. As my editor put it: Fuck it. I did.

Hopefully I'll find a little comfort in fresh home-made chocolate cookies tonight. I think the starvation I referred to in yesterday's post is indeed psychological. Crap!