Another world

I’m starting to think that working for people with six figure salaries is not doing me any good. I see their extravagant lifestyles of Mulberry handbags, lunch at the Ivy and holidays to Hawaii and feel resentful of my Pret lunch, weekend planned in Milton Keynes and Zara slingbacks (though actually, the shoes are fab).

I guess that’s just the way things are when you’re a lowly PA. I enviously process my boss’s expenses for the month that to me are the evidence of a month spent wining and dining in London’s most exclusive and glamorous venues, which for her, are evidence of a month’s hard work maintaining working relationships (and that stone in weight she put on ha ha). But I do wonder if they are completely oblivious to how the rest of us live.

For example…

This week, one of the directors told me that he might be able to ‘catch a lift’ with his friend to Scotland for a meeting, and to ring his friend to see if there’s room for him. He didn’t explain that this was in his friend’s PRIVATE JET. Honestly.

Then, the legal director kindly asked me where I was going on holiday for the various days I had booked off. I told him I was going to Devon for a few days and then to Valencia for a week. ‘How lovely’, he said, ‘do you have houses there?’

Oh yes, I thought. Didn’t I ever tell you? I won the Euro millions lottery last year, but I thought it would be good to get a job photocopying, filing and making coffee, you know, in case I lose my humility.

Later that day he came into the main office area and said ‘Ah. Now you’re all hip, fashionable, young people right? (Me, my 38 year old colleague and the spotty 19 year old German boy on an overseas work placement) ‘I want to pay for a night at a trendy hotel in London as a present for my daughter’s 21st birthday. Any ideas? Lydia – come on, your boyfriend is in a band, surely you must know about things like this?’

My boyfriend might be in a band, but our only parallel to Kate Moss and Pete Doherty is his love of the ladies and my love of Rimmel eyeliner.

‘I have no idea, I’m afraid’ I said. ‘But (with a smile and a wink) I’d be very willing to do some research, in my own time; all I need is the company credit card.’

‘Excellent’ he said (with a smile and a wink). ‘We could do it together…’

Oh my god. I think I found my humility.

Apologies

Apologies for the lack of post last week.

On Thursday the Legal Director accidentally split his trousers at the back, and then asked me to temporarily mend them using a stapler. Whilst he was still wearing them. It wasn’t a pleasant scene for the Chief Executive to walk in on.

I just need some more time to recover.

Hot wash

My boyfriend’s ground floor flat was flooded last week in the torrential rain we had, and so he came to stay with me on Sunday night. Given that I usually spend most nights at his house, I was quite looking forward to a week or two without carting round clean clothes and underwear.

I awoke on Monday morning to see through blurry eyes the vision of a half naked man ironing a shirt for work, and a cup of tea for me on the bedside table - so that’s why he set his alarm fifteen minutes early. Brilliant, I thought as he offered to iron my blouse, I could get used to this.

But some things never change. I went to check my washing pile on Tuesday evening and was amazed at how full it was. This was because the cheeky git had brought all the dirty washing round from his flat! I made a mental note to put all his boxer shorts on a hot wash and shrink them. That’ll teach him.

I’m not sure why but I actually feel quite threatened by the amount of skincare products my boyfriend owns…I’ve heard of metrosexual but this is ridiculous! I’ve actually been stealing his expensive moisturiser- this can’t be right.

Now he can’t get to sleep without listening to music for an hour. Of course I know this, but usually he listens to his iPod (also damaged in the flood). As I lay in bed on Wednesday night listening to Enya on my stereo, I realised the very first task of tomorrow would be to buy a new iPod online. Express delivery.

The final straw was on Thursday evening as we watched a DVD in my room. I was actually thinking how nice this was…until he remarked on how my room could do with a hoover. Right, I need to do something, he has to be gone by the weekend, I thought. I racked my brain all night – watching a whole Sex and the City box set? Bikini line waxing? Something had to work.

This morning though my prayers were answered, as he put on a pair of boxer shorts…‘how can these be so tight?’ he exclaimed worriedly, checking his profile in the mirror. ‘I must have put on weight with all the food you’ve been cooking me. This is a disaster - I have a gig tomorrow!’

I had an email earlier (an actual email, I mean, how are we meant to survive without Facebook today?) to say his flat was now in a reasonable state to go back to, and thanks for letting him stay. No problem at all I replied, I’ll drive your stuff round for you later.

Hmm, apart from that horrible Kula Shaker t-shirt perhaps…

Still, my skin’s never looked so good.