I hate to say this because of Blood Diamond and all (and I do not mean to trivialise the problem there) but there are days when diamonds really are a girl’s best friend.
When you get out of bed having slept fitfully because you worked till 11 pm again (!) and you are growing an ulcer and you know that even red capri pants won’t do it. Because red capris are happy and you are not. So you have to wear something that will give you that lift – make you feel strong and powerful and ready to kick ass, but not radiating positivity.
Diamonds do just that.
That’s not to say, diamonds can’t be positive. They can. But they can also help you stalk your way through the world.
Which is what I was doing yesterday. And believe me did I need those diamonds. I had people nitpicking through their ass. I had the one reliable guy freaking out paranoid and quaking in fear of boss, god knows why. I had layout guy going into a zone.
The only good thing that happened was that guy who sits behind me and who did not submit his story waltzed into the office and did not throw a tantrum because his story was dropped. In fact, he seemed cheerful. Maybe he was scared I would throw a tantrum. I am beginning to think a whole lot of poeple are scared of me. The other day noticed my boss quaking when I asked him whether he had finished checking something I had asked him to read – yes, it has been pointed out that I should not be giving my boss work, but whatever! We’re short-staffed. And underpaid – except my boss, so it makes sense for him to do the extra bit.
At some point V came over – basically to pick up the crate of wine under my desk (long story! believe me I was tempted many times to open a bottle but the thought of the contents of the box being revealed and random colleagues feeling free to help themselves in times of need prevented me) – and then after waiting for me for half an hour, he left. Today, he has posted a message on my orkut page going “long time no see”.
V is my husband in case anyone is wondering.
PS: Because this post started with diamonds and then degenerated into general whining, I must clarify that mine are tiny ear studs, an an engagement ring. The engagement ring is an angst-ridden tale and for the longest time I refused to wear it. However, finally I conceded – after all, it is a diamond.