Monkey Business

kimmy’s prepping

Thursday, January 15, 10:10 a.m.

I’m sitting in room 316 of the Katz building, waiting for my O’Donnel interview to begin. Five hopeful prospects, including me, are waiting in this mini-classroom, each sitting in a different row. I’m sitting in the back row, and am very uncomfortable in my suit. What is the point of a suit? Really? And why blue? And why a skirt? Of the five waiting to be interrogated, three are guys, and I find their ties even crazier. Why is a rope around one’s neck considered formal? And why for a man and not a woman? Maybe I should apply to Ralph Lauren instead of to a consulting firm. Right. As if any clothing chain besides Frederick’s of Hollywood would want me working for them.

None of us wants to be wearing a suit; we’d all rather be in sweats, or at least jeans, but nope, suit it is. I’d rather be in my bed, naked, with Russ.

I bought this navy-blue atrocity especially for today. Do I have to get a second one if I make it to the second round? My coat is definitely wrong. All I have is a short ski jacket in candy-apple-red from the Gap. The three guys waiting all have dull, gray, wool, appropriate coats. Why didn’t I think of buying an appropriately dull coat? At the moment my highly inappropriate coat is bunched behind me in my seat. Maybe I should hang it up. When they call me in, the interviewer won’t see the flaming mess and think that I’m inappropriate.

I hang it on the back of the door, then return to my seat.

I’m going to do fine. I will. My eggs aren’t all in this basket, anyway. I have an interview with another firm tomorrow. And I’ve been practicing cases all week. All vacation. I can do this.

Not sure what to do with my hair. It’s in a tight ponytail for now, which I think makes me look serious. I hope it doesn’t give me a headache. I’m feeling too good at the moment to have a headache. Russ came back last night. I wasn’t sure what to expect, after a month of Sharon.

No one’s going to stop me from getting what I want. Not my dad and not Sharon. And not my period, since I’m still taking the pills.

As soon as Russ saw me, he slammed my door behind him, pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard. Phew. Maybe they’re over. Maybe he broke up with her. We haven’t talked about it yet. I didn’t want to bring it up when we have so much else to worry about. (I don’t want him to think I’m a nag.) He has Stewart & Co. this morning, BCG this afternoon, and O’Donnel tomorrow. I just have O’Donnel this morning and BCG tomorrow afternoon.

A man pushes open the door. “Ms. Nailer? We’re ready for you.”

Here goes nothing. Or everything.