From the cave
May. 14th, 2004 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredericksThe Prudential Lady was disgustingly insistent, the type of person I'm unable to say "no" to. So, despite all my hedging and postponing, I still ended up meeting wtih her to go over my "financial future" this afternoon. I got there very early and since I'd zoomed through She's Come Undone the night before (nice read, but the ending wrapped everything up a little too neatly for my taste) I tried to start on Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, one of the selections from the Samaritans reading list. If I hadn't been familiar with a lot of the philosophies of the group, I would just breeze through this thing, not giving it a second though. But...whoa. This book is deep, unfolding like a flower.
Or, rather, it would have been unfolding if I hadn't had the beginning of a killer headache messing me up. When she called me into her office I thought maybe I could hold up for a few more minutes, but when she brought out all the analyses and projections she'd made of my financial prospects and went on about IRAs, bonds, and retirement funds it came on almost full strength. I wanted to tell her to STFU, but I just nodded and smiled and tried my best to look interested.
Then she started with the pimping. I know she makes money off the referral and the come-back, like any good drug dealer, but I just couldn't stomach her methods. She started asking if there was anyone in my family that would benefit from her services. I said yes, but left it at that. By that time I just really wanted to be anywhere else but that posh office overlooking Rockefeller Center (although the view was spectacular, of course). She keep pushing me for names, though, with that polite voice of hers. A voice twinged with sincerity, with questions about my family and their situations, etc etc. A voice that was ultimately false. When she asked me what my folks did for a living I nearly turned on her, asking her what relevance that held to what we were doing at the moment. Her simpering that she usually asks her clients about their family lives and didn't mean to offend me would have placated me...if she didn't start up with the same line of questioning not 1 minute later. It got me so pissed that I didn't even bother to tell her that I *had*, in fact, mentioned her and her services to a couple of my family members. I should have, though, and I then should have told her that I wouldn't do that anymore. Instead, my politeness getting the best of me, I took a couple of her business cards and mentioned an uncle that might need planning help. I'm such a softee.
Found out that I'm definitely in Hunter for the fall. Class registration for me is on June 17th. I've never done the scheduling thing in such a massive school. I hope I can handle it without going loco.
Oh yes, speaking of more GLBT Expo fallout, the poor Wachovia dude I gave my resume to apparently didn't just trash it but passed it on to someone in HR, because I got a letter a couple of days ago about my interest in positions at Wachovia. A general letter, asking me if I wanted to be a teller basically, but, hey! it's something. I'm just afraid to have one of my now-illustrious classmates come up to me while I'm behind the teller window and say "Hey, weren't we both in Orgo together? Whatever happened to you? And can you deposit my ginormous weekly check I get from being the top pediatric neurosurgeon in the world? Don't fuck that up." Pride. And fear.
Speaking of fear, I'm wondering how long this Samaritans ride will last. I totally forgot to call them on the days we were told in order to get the address for my practice call session this Thursday. No excuse, really. It just slipped my mind. Dad woke me up when they called today, after the deadline, and my mouth went a little dry. I remembered to call only when he told me who was on the other line. I thought they were going to kick me out, but Tom just chastised me a little (a lot) and, after making sure I was still interested, gave me the address. Maybe the forgetting was a subconscious effort on my part to leave, something that I've been thinking about on and off for the last few days. I don't think I'm good enough, I don't know enough people to practice on, and I'm afraid of being told what I already know (that I'm not good enough). Why? I suppose because I'm human and I'm stupid. I do stupid things like that.
Yup yup. It's Friday. Let's get this party started.
Or, rather, it would have been unfolding if I hadn't had the beginning of a killer headache messing me up. When she called me into her office I thought maybe I could hold up for a few more minutes, but when she brought out all the analyses and projections she'd made of my financial prospects and went on about IRAs, bonds, and retirement funds it came on almost full strength. I wanted to tell her to STFU, but I just nodded and smiled and tried my best to look interested.
Then she started with the pimping. I know she makes money off the referral and the come-back, like any good drug dealer, but I just couldn't stomach her methods. She started asking if there was anyone in my family that would benefit from her services. I said yes, but left it at that. By that time I just really wanted to be anywhere else but that posh office overlooking Rockefeller Center (although the view was spectacular, of course). She keep pushing me for names, though, with that polite voice of hers. A voice twinged with sincerity, with questions about my family and their situations, etc etc. A voice that was ultimately false. When she asked me what my folks did for a living I nearly turned on her, asking her what relevance that held to what we were doing at the moment. Her simpering that she usually asks her clients about their family lives and didn't mean to offend me would have placated me...if she didn't start up with the same line of questioning not 1 minute later. It got me so pissed that I didn't even bother to tell her that I *had*, in fact, mentioned her and her services to a couple of my family members. I should have, though, and I then should have told her that I wouldn't do that anymore. Instead, my politeness getting the best of me, I took a couple of her business cards and mentioned an uncle that might need planning help. I'm such a softee.
Found out that I'm definitely in Hunter for the fall. Class registration for me is on June 17th. I've never done the scheduling thing in such a massive school. I hope I can handle it without going loco.
Oh yes, speaking of more GLBT Expo fallout, the poor Wachovia dude I gave my resume to apparently didn't just trash it but passed it on to someone in HR, because I got a letter a couple of days ago about my interest in positions at Wachovia. A general letter, asking me if I wanted to be a teller basically, but, hey! it's something. I'm just afraid to have one of my now-illustrious classmates come up to me while I'm behind the teller window and say "Hey, weren't we both in Orgo together? Whatever happened to you? And can you deposit my ginormous weekly check I get from being the top pediatric neurosurgeon in the world? Don't fuck that up." Pride. And fear.
Speaking of fear, I'm wondering how long this Samaritans ride will last. I totally forgot to call them on the days we were told in order to get the address for my practice call session this Thursday. No excuse, really. It just slipped my mind. Dad woke me up when they called today, after the deadline, and my mouth went a little dry. I remembered to call only when he told me who was on the other line. I thought they were going to kick me out, but Tom just chastised me a little (a lot) and, after making sure I was still interested, gave me the address. Maybe the forgetting was a subconscious effort on my part to leave, something that I've been thinking about on and off for the last few days. I don't think I'm good enough, I don't know enough people to practice on, and I'm afraid of being told what I already know (that I'm not good enough). Why? I suppose because I'm human and I'm stupid. I do stupid things like that.
Yup yup. It's Friday. Let's get this party started.
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no subject
Date: 2004-05-14 10:03 pm (UTC)Hugs,
Gorzo