I can empathize with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.
At the back of my neck sits a mountain of a knot, only unlike Hunch, mine isn’t a birth defect but job-related stress.
I work in public relations, and not the glamorous, fun side often associated with the business. I represent Big Pharma and Fortune 500 companies, so the job has a “Survivor” feel. When I’m not fending off competitive colleagues, I’m jumping through hoops trying to meet client demands.
Over the years, I’ve seen presentations fly across rooms and been pushed aside by a bi-polar p.r. executive making her way to the bagel cart. I’ve had to do everything from leave a sick kid with a babysitter and fly across country for a last minute client meeting to escort dogs at 4:00 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning to the “Today Show.”
As I snapped at the cab driver who refused to pick me up on 42nd Street and Third that dark cold November morning: “These dogs are more honorable and clean than most of your fares.”
The pay is nice. But what makes it bearable is having a work buddy. The person who behind close doors will agree your boss is a psycho and the client a be-otch. Who will share office gossip as easily as her Christmas fudge recipe and tell you to order drinks and expense it to the client.
So, today, I say “Thank God, for all my work buddies, present and through the years, who made my job a better place.”
Lipstick and Playdates 