Friday, January 30, 2015

Mommy Dearest

Better Engineering is well, better, way better.  I can’t believe I’ve been there for almost nine months, almost enough time to birth a baby. No more Endless Engineering, no longer being made to feel dumber than a rock, and best of all no fantastically fake Beer Girl. My new manager, Super Boss, tells me that I’m freaking amazing and allows me to run with scissors through the halls.   They even hired me a couple of 12-year old engineers to do a lot of the heavy lifting who are practically peeing their pants in their giddy excitement of being on a grownup team. 



But recently I have noticed a shift in how the professional world perceives me now.   I had a field meeting for a roadway design project that is located on tribal land with official state transportation oversight.  A major requirement for the visit where you play in traffic is to wear an attractive safety vest and hardhat. Stunning visual, me and helmet hair.   One of our sub consultants, Little Kenny, was far from that. Not only did he have to borrow a vest, we practically had to zip two of them together to straddle his massive girth.  The tribe gracious invited us to lunch at their casino where Little Kenny visited the buffet, three times to the point where the waitress offered him a bib.  Burp, I was afraid he was going to swallow me whole like a boa constrictor.

As we were saying our solemn goodbyes with steady handclasps, Kenny leapt upon me with a sweaty embrace declaring he just “gotta hug all the ladies”.  Awwwkkkkk, stop it, I am 15 years older than your target demographic.  I know I’m the only female here but hug Joe, my co-worker, if you need to feel the love.

The following week, on the way to another meeting, I recount the tale to Super Boss explaining that I work hard at radiating my super personal space bubble and my firm man handshake.    Then as I provide the introduction to an old client, I stick out my hand, only to get, “we’ve known each other a long time” hug. What the hell is going on? Am I in an alternate universe? I usual nip this shit in the bud. I once told a guy to stop calling me girl since hadn’t been a girl since I got my period at twelve in front of six coworkers.

Been feeling the need for less bread and more veggies in my diet so here is a little salad gig recipe my Sistah gave me.

Cashew Broccoli Salad
2 bunches raw broccoli cut into bite size pieces
1 pound cooked and crumbled bacon
¼ cup raisins
½ cup cashews
1 cup mayo
½ sugar
½ teaspoon white vinegar

Mix broccoli, bacon, raisins and cashews in a bowl. In separate bowl whisk together mayo, sugar and vinegar and pour over other. Chill several hours before serving.

At my husband’s holiday soiree I had an epiphany about all this free love as a young sale rep moved in for a little squeeze.  My thirties and forties flashed before my eyes. I have transitioned from being the Hot Chick to the comfortable Mom Hug. Ughh. Come here you widdle baby, didum have a no good horrible day?  There, there, come a little closer, so I can whip you with some wire hangers like Joan Crawford.    I am now going to go gargle with a little Botox and rest my weary head.  I’d sign this with XOXOXO but I don’t want to give any of you any ideas.  Good week Team Tuna.


10 comments:

Clairejustine oxox said...

Cashew broccoli sounds yummy, love all the ingredients :)

Janie Junebug said...

Kenny needs to go back to kindergarten to learn to keep his hands to himself. You get your period at twelve in front of six coworkers? I bet you wished for some privacy.

Love,
Janie

Hilary said...

Super boss sounds great!
I'm happy for you!

ADoC said...

You and me both! I was in FL last week, with a group of men and women I'd never met before. I don't hug. Period. EVER. Not even other women. So when the oldest man of the group came up to me, I put my hand out for a handshake (obvs) and unintentionally rammed it into his paunch, as he had aimed to go in for a hug. "Honey, we're from the South," says one woman witnessing the awkwardness, "We HUG everyone."

Personal space, people. It's a thing. Google it.

On a non-hugging note, glad you're loving your work!

Wombat Central said...

So, I've seen you on a friend's blog comments, but somehow never found your actual blog. Yay! I'm here!

Also, sweaty, full Kenny. Ick. I'm feeling for you.

Ms. G said...

HaHa! Hey, I have a hard hat too! And a major client hugged me yesterday, but it was a woman, and then she told my husband/co-boss to rub my feet last night because I had a long day...but then again, I'm in Florida-Hugs to ADoC up there even though they're a total stranger: )

Red Nomad OZ said...

Hahahaha, welcome to tweenie world! No, not the teenager/adult nexus, the netherland between Hot Mama and Old Bag. Don't worry ... you'll know when you've reached 'Old Bag' land - then you'll be BEGGING for the hugs!

All the same ... raw broccoli is an extreme shift to get away from bread, isn't it?? Raw veggies aren't even salad, are they?!?!?!

Mommy Bags said...

You cougar you.....Grrrrrr
Love the recipe broccoli rocks especially for awesomely hot chicks like us ;0)

patio garden furniture said...

Love the cashew broccoli! I'm happy for you! Thanks for sharing!

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