Excuse me?

An ode to the boy who told me my job could be accomplished by formatting an excel file:

Ross seemed like a nice boy from the looks of it: nerdy, tall, possibly Jewish with a Christian father. But as of late, I have learned my judgment in boys is far from taking first place. When he asked me for drinks, I thought, “Sure, why not?” When he scheduled them for 8:30pm on a work night, I thought, “This is actually around my bed time, but I guess.”

He promptly arrived at 8:45pm, and I had been sitting at the bar alone since 8:25pm because of my severely-anxious, on-time personality. After he sat down without apologizing for being late (Five minutes, fine. But 15? On a work night? At least acknowledge it.), he proclaimed, “I don’t really know much about alcoholic beverages.” (Excuse me while I choke on my cider, but why did you suggest meeting at a bar?)

After discussing if he should eat the orange garnish on his Blue Moon or let it soak in his drink, he went on to tell me how he graduated from the University of Virginia. He told me about how he likes to watch polo matches. I heard  all about how prestigious his university is and all of the high class activities he participated in (…alcohol free obviously…doesn’t sound like college.) So I told him my brother-in-law went to Cornell, and then paused for a moment to state, “I think that’s an actual Ivy.” (Seriously, you’re not impressing me by bragging.)

We quickly moved on to talking about where we called home in the city. After he made fun of my elevator apartment building (with dishwasher!) being right on the 2^nd Ave subway line construction, he hesitantly told me he crashes on his grandfather’s pull out couch in Union Square… There is no shame in saving on rent, but at 27, you shouldn’t be shacking with gramps on a pull out couch. At least you shouldn’t have the gumption do that while making fun of my apartment that I pay for myself.

But my dear readers, it does not end there. At 9:07, we began to talk about work. As a media planner/buyer and as most of the world, I deal with excel charts, but my job as a whole could not be done by an excel program as Ross simplified it, “So, your job is basically an excel file?”  As I began to defend my job that pays for my self-sufficient lifestyle, he began to laugh, “I didn’t mean to offend you.” (Did you hear what you said? Did you think it was appropriate?) I asked about his job, which had something to do with airport efficiencies, but what I mostly got was that after six weeks on the job, he hated it. At 9:17 I excused myself to the restroom with a sigh, “I’m glad I love my excel file job that I have a few  years of experience in.” (Did I mention he just finished grad school and this is his first real job that he is about to quit?)

When I returned, I threw down cash for my drink, shook his hand and headed in the opposite direction of him…unfortunately the opposite direction was away from the subway, and it was raining.

I’m starting to think maybe I should just be an NJB for myself…