For the last two years, the two of us have shared an office. I am contracts administration. Ruth is financial analysis. Understand me, from the first moment Ruth realized I knew and understood the word kvell, she and I have grown tight as family in this little home of an office we know as work. For all intents and purposes, she is my work spouse.
Ask Ruth about actuals, analysis, cost centers, and she will provide bottom lines. Ask to compare actual billings to contract and she will tell you exactly where your contract went south. Five minutes, tops. She can prepare a monthly report on hundreds of millions of dollars and she won't break a sweat. The girl's a goddamned genius when it comes to capital accounting and all the bells and monetary whistles it takes to keep the captains of industry swimming in cash flow without fear of overdraft. I am in constant, daily, unmitigated AWE of her.
But when it comes to 12:30 and I ask "where do you want to go for lunch?" we have this.
Ask Ruth about actuals, analysis, cost centers, and she will provide bottom lines. Ask to compare actual billings to contract and she will tell you exactly where your contract went south. Five minutes, tops. She can prepare a monthly report on hundreds of millions of dollars and she won't break a sweat. The girl's a goddamned genius when it comes to capital accounting and all the bells and monetary whistles it takes to keep the captains of industry swimming in cash flow without fear of overdraft. I am in constant, daily, unmitigated AWE of her.
But when it comes to 12:30 and I ask "where do you want to go for lunch?" we have this.
There's nothing wrong with not knowing what one wants for lunch. For me, its usually what's available within short distance, price-competitive, delicious, and incapable of putting me to sleep at the desk. That decision criteria brings up a cavalcade of options. But I just can't figure why Ruth, a woman who I would trust with billions in public funds to account for EVERY SINGLE PENNY, who can organize, cater and arrange decorations for a mega Harry Potter birthday party for her kid while flipping through payment logs on 563 contracts like thumbing through the yellow pages, a woman, in others words who is in such total command of herself---WOULD GO INTO A PSYCHOLOGICAL TAILSPIN IT WHEN IT COMES TO DECIDING WHAT'S FOR LUNCH?.
"F.--what am I going to do about lunch?" she would ask in a tone that sounds like she's got all her good clothes at the dry cleaners and has nothing to wear for the prom. There's even a slight whimper. Given Ruth's totality of life competence, I am perplexed.
Ruthie, my love, what is the dilemma?
I write to you now with love and deep concern, as an intervention of sorts to re-boot you past your decision insecurity. I reach out to you, knowing that together we can find the root cause of this lunch anxiety and with my support, go back out into the World of lunch and make clear, concise and satisfying decisions without fear of repercussion.
You can do it, Ruth. I KNOW you can.
1 comment:
This article honestly made me (and my roomie) laugh out loud. I find it so true about many very put-together people--those simple, essential things can be so hard to do. Let Ruthie know that she's not alone, and that this choice is not one that needs to be managed, only enjoyed.
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