Tuesday, September 2, 2008

blohg blohg blohg

Today was nuts. Really crazy. So goood.

I kicked off my morning by hitting the pavement at 5:45am for a 1.6 mile neighborhood watch run. I just call it that. It's not official neighborhood watch, but I am keeping an eye out. All I really saw was a lady walking her two poodles. My sluggish sweaty butt was probably the scariest thing out in the neighborhood this morning.

So for those readers who are not finance/investment people, today was the first business day of September. It's a crazy day for client servicing people. I was totally swamped from the second I got into work. See, after month end it's important to let the clients know about their account's performance and stuff over the previous month. In a very "Office Space" type of way, my assignments and tasks are itemized with an indication of how long each one should take. Well, according to my assignment list I had 9 hours of work to do. On top of that, I had 6 hours of scheduled training. So that would amount to a 15 hour day. Long story short, I really hunkered down and finished everything about 6pm. It was a rewarding day because I overcame a mountain of work in a reasonable amount of time. Feels good inside.

After work I was double booked. We had a new associate networking dinner at a fancy restaurant. I ordered a rack of lamb on the company and had a few glasses of some red wine that someone cultured picked out. It's always nice when they do these things for us. I had to leave a bit early to catch a bonfire put on by Liwanag. The two events consecutively really juxtapose the two experiences. I was thinking about it on the ride home from CDM. On one hand, the new associates are a lot like me and they are really intelligent. On the other hand, I feel like LOGers are unbelievable people who are better persons than I could ever be. Maybe my grammar's off there but I think I conveyed the point. Maybe I just enjoyed the bonfire more because some of those people can really sing well.

Well. I'm pooped. Good stuff.

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