Corporate Whores

I went for drinks with a long lost friend this evening. The 5 à 7 was long postponed due to various life issues on both sides, and we were both extremely happy to finally sit down together over a bottle of wine this evening. Really, it’s been almost a year.

When my friend was in the restroom, I glanced over at a group of secretaries or somesuch out for Christmas drinks. Five girls and a very gay dude. They were all so repressed and stiff looking, trying desperately to enjoy the circumstances through which they knew each other. A year ago that was me.

As I looked at them I wanted to scream or cry. Though I was dressed casually, I could almost feel the constriction of their knee-hi pantyhose and Reitman’s blouses. Like a modern day Scarlett O’Hara, I swore on that very spot that I would never again go back to that life. The freelance business I started over the summer may have come from a place of desperation, but I swear – as God is my witness – that I will never again be whoring myself out to fulfill some corporate bottom line.

From this day forward, all work I do will be in aid of the corporation of Me, Myself & I Inc.