magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

I feel like I need a job number at work to bill the hours that I spend waiting for Chris.W. Don't get me wrong. He's a nice guy, I enjoy working with him, but he's not terribly good at organizing and delegating work. He always seems overwhelmed, and tells me that there's tons of work that all needs to get done roughly simultaneously. But somehow it takes a long time for any of that work to trickle down to me. And since I'm only paid for billable hours, and not those that I'm just sitting around (even if it's in the office), it directly affects my paycheck.

---

Spent a little of that money that I'm not necessarily making on drinks after work. Chris called. 'It's noisy where you are. You're drinking aren't you?'

'Yeah, but people are dispersing. As soon as I'm done with this half a beer I'll be headed out. I'll call you when I get home to Brooklyn.'

Jen.D, John.S, and I walked to the subway. She headed for the uptown F/V. We went to the downtown N/R/Q/W. As the train was arriving my phone rings. The 34th and Broadway station is one of the few where I have service. It's Marie. 'Rob and I are having desert at Red Bamboo if you want to join us.'

'I guess I'm switching to the orange line,' I say to John as he steps on the train. 'I'll see you Monday.'

Had not just desert, but a whole dinner.

Eventually got in touch with Chris, but he was happy to just stay home at that point. I was in bed early myself.