Coming home early for the first time in almost three weeks, I felt strangely fresh and invigorated. I've been starting to wonder if midnight walks home from the office (a mere 12 minutes, I ain't no masochist!) was how life was going to be like for the foreseeable future. Walking out of the office at half 6pm today and seeing daylight (and this being summer - almost!), it felt mostly awkward - as if I had somehow stumbled into unfamiliar territory.
Most (normal) people tend to think that leaving the office at 8pm would rightly be classed as a late night. I used to think so too. Obviously, I don't anymore.
8? That's early, mate.
9? Hmm, there's time enough to meet up for drinks at the bar.
10? Seems average to me.
11? I'm hungry.
12? Am I walking home or getting a cab?
1? I have a short chat with the Russian cleaner who comes in to clear my rubbish.
2? 5th cappucinno.
3? Yawn!
4? I'm leaving now. There's the 8.30am seminar tomorrow...
I suppose that's the undeniable wonder of conditioning for you. To be fair, work hasn't even been especially tough yet. I've not had the fortuitous opportunity to experience a one-nighter to date. And neither have I had to work over any weekend.
Everyone used to assure me that I would be swamped and wouldn't have much of a social life the minute I started work, on the premise that the trainees in firms like the sort that I'm in tend to work late. In fact, not just late but very late. When I first heard this, the naive me thought: "Well, what the hell? That's fine. I'm a night owl. Any time, babe... bring it on [insert petulant scoff]! And in any case, I usually leave the house around 10 or 11 anyway." Perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say on hindsight.
I've been working on two deals. One is due to be signed "sometime this week", but I'm not particularly hopeful as it was meant to be signed last Friday and the negotiations are still going on. The other deal that I've been working on was signed today, with as much fanfare as a fig leaf. And so with little more than four hours of sleep to keep me awake today, I was pleasantly surprised when three associates told me to "GO HOME!". Und so (all-time-favourite German "sentence connector"), I did.
On the way home, I was thinking about a typo (I know this sounds rather sad, but what the heck) in the minutes of a board meeting (of directors) which I had drafted late last night, misspelling the surname of a (apparently, rather large, American) director as "Lunch" (instead of "Lynch"). I was told this provided much hilarity and not a few chortles amongst the other directors to an otherwise boring meeting. Mister Lynch was apparently rather magnanimous in seeing the funny side to the (clearly innocent) typo and, probably resigned to a lifetime of fat jokes, proclaimed it was "not the first time". So anyway, there I was walking down a street, thinking about the incident, and (with all the geekness I could muster) started giggling to myself.
As I walked into the flat, I headed straight for the kitchen and looked into my fridge searching for food. My chilled possessions included:
1. a 1pt milk carton (full cream, thank you) which expired of course on 16 May 2005, unopened;
2. an opened packet of French crepes (filled with delectable hazelnut spread!), 4 out of 6 remaining;
3. a mid-sized pot of Onken biopot raspberry yoghurt, unopened;
4. a mini-bottle of Unagi sauce (marinade for eel/salmon);
5. a mini-bottle of Miso paste;
6. Japanese (sweet) mayonnaise;
7. Lurpak butter;
8. Raspberry jam;
9. some Milka chocolate from Vienna (present for mates in Manchester);
10. a bottle of Kriekbier (Belgian);
11. a bottle of Becks (German);
12. a bottle of Pilsner Urquell (Czech); and
13. a bottle of Laurent-Perrier (French, obviously).
So, basically, I had nothing to eat for dinner. Which on hindsight isn't too surprising, considering I eat my evening meals in the office almost everyday, either in the canteen (which is free) or getting some posh nosh delivery (billed to the client, of course).
And then I remembered reading in http://www.chambersandpartners.com/, a law student graduate recruitment guide, the concept of the trainee fridge: a few ready meals, a bit of pasta, lots of beer and no milk because you often won't be home long enough to use it before it goes off! If you're of the can't cook, won't cook school of eating, the canteen serves from breakfast time until late and there's even an onsite Costa Coffee. The kitchens on each floor of the office are filled with fruit, teas, and coffees (cappuccino, latte and espresso for those late nights). Add in free food after seven, free taxis home after nine, on-site doctors, dentists, opticians and masseurs and the reasons for the empty fridge become clearer.
Oh well, so there you go. It was pasta for dinner.
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