Kristin has been working night and day to get enough stuff done for work so she can disappear with me into the Canadian Rockies for the next 10 days, but tonight she's going to the opera. Without me.
In a move I find both peculiar and hillarious, the two top dogs at Kristin's company have invited Kristin and three other young, attractive female employees to accompany them to the opera. It's a relatively formal occasion with dinner before the show and she's not going to be home until well after midnight. She spent part of last night ironing a dress and putting a small bag of clothes together. She has to look her best, apparently.
As part of upper management, Kristin gets invited to these sorts of things all the time. Usually the guest list is a pretty mixed group and it's either just to go to dinner or to a Mariners game. She often gets out of them. This seems kind of awkward though. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame these guys -- both hovering around 50 years old from what I understand -- for hand-picking the four most attractive women in the company (none over 31 years old) to go out with, but they are clearly flirting with fire. Aside from the ridiculously wrong messages it sends to other employees, there is a serious risk of this leading to accusations of impropriety or at the least, favoritism. This isn't to say I think these guys -- both of whom have been excellent mentors to Kristin thus far -- have any alterior motives. I'm sure they just decided to take the four people (okay, all women) who they thought would be the most fun. And the three of the four I know are all really fun to be around. But still... it's just weird.
We talked more about it this morning while she was getting ready to leave.
"Have fun on your big date, tonight."
She gave me a smirk.
"Actually, I don't even think there is an opera. You're just using it as an excuse to go to Kari's and play dress-up after work."
She starts to laugh. "Yes, that's exactly what we're doing."
"Well can you call me during intermission?"
"Of course, there are two of them. I'll definitely call."
"One other thing..."
"Yes?"
"Can you bring me home some kettle corn?"
"Hon, they don't sell kettle corn at the operahouse. You do know I'm not going to the ballpark, right?"
"Well, can you maybe bring me home one of those fancy cigarette holders?"
"You don't smoke."
"Oh yeah, well instead can you bring me home one of those neat pairs of golden binoculars that come mounted on a stick? It will be like we're the Howells from Gilligan's Island. I can call you Lovey."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Okay, good, now make sure you have fun tonight... being someone else's arm candy." I started to fake sniffle and act sad.
She laughed, and gave me a wink of an eye and left me to continue sleeping.
It was a good sleep.
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