Saturday, March 1, 2008

Boy 3 Says Hello

So, yesterday's interview with my hero, Mark Gorton, went terribly. It was one of those things where I over-prepared and then I failed to cover the basic rules of good interviewing skills. It was pretty fucken embarrassing. That said, he did grant me a full hour of his time, and I did get to check out the sweet Tribeca split-level that his hedge fund occupies, filled with plants, fuschia pillows, and statues of Buddha. But when I left, I felt like an asshole, and wandered around Tribeca for a while, smoking cigarettes and feeling like a failure.

Oh well.

Then today, I get this email from Boy 3, the guy I saw for one hot minute in October. The email was two lines long..."Saw you my office...with my boss..."

How fucken weird! Of course Boy works for Mark Gorton. I'd like to say "Suddenly, it all made sense to me," but everything made even less sense. It really tripped me out to get that communique. It was the second time I'd heard about Boy in the past two weeks, because he'd run into a friend from school, and she actually recognized him from a party we went to at her place. It made me want to re-think life and fate, which I don't particularly believe in. But I'm willing to rethink these things.

I asked him why he didn't say hello. He wrote back:

i wish i had said hello, too.  instead i left the
office at four fifteen to avoid a potentially awkward encounter.
that's how much of an adult i am.

Oh Boy...


Luis Celestino said...

eh, what a bonehead.

as my mother likes to say, "you'll eventually realize something good came of this."

teleological happiness. i can get behind that!

Luis Celestino said...

by the way, thanks to you and the fine folks who produced "Helvetica," i know why the contrast of fonts between that of your blog and that of the email makes me appreciate the "Email Message" per se as an artifact of your personal narrative.

woo hoo!

Papagayo said...

two things: i totally feel Boy on that. I'd run too. the other: why do i feel an automatic disrespect for people who work at hedge funds? is it like the impossibly handsome, that i imagine how much money they have and how EASY their lives must be as a result and just decide to hate? don't get it, but he definitely seems way less cool to me knowing that he works a hedge fund... even if it tries to be some cool one. i think i read an article about people like me in nymag a while back...