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gabrielle
I worked with Gabrielle a few years back for about two months. She was temping. We lived in the same neighborhood (she on 5th Ave, myself on 3rd, er almost the same) and shared the commute home, dishing about everthing: significant others (her husband was in med school; I was in a year-plus relationship), places we had lived (her list far more elaborate than mine), families (her family didn’t approve of her husband, felt he wasn’t educated enough; my parents only wished I still dated a medical student), and of course, how rotten the job was.
When they offered her full-time employment near the end of her temp period, she laughed in their faces. As if she’d work at a place that consistently rejected the educated input of their employees. As if she’d put up with their disrespectful time clock and known mechanisms for shorting your paycheck. Why on earth would she work there with her options wide open, and at two months, she’d seen more than enough. Essentially, she said everything that we had all wished we had years earlier, before skimpy pension promises and a sense of habit locked us to their cheap, Formica-ed desks. (Well, truthfully, that’s what she said to me. To them, it was a polite “No thank you.”) On her last day, we fussed over how much we’d miss our commute chatter and she gave me her number so we could grab drinks sometime.
I never called her. I’m bad like that. I found her intimidating, clearly too smart for the likes of me; it was part fear of rejection, and part knowledge that most work friendships don’t transfer well. In front of the Gristedes by my apartment, almost a year later, I had nearly walked pass her when she tapped me on the arm. From her too-small coat burst a pregnant belly; she was glowing with happiness, and I immediately felt the full extent of my regret. I congratulated her, but she was with a friend and we didn’t speak long.
I was back in my old neighborhood last night, walking with Little T and K when we happened upon the most precious carrot-haired, blue-eyed toddler in a stroller we’d ever seen, chewing on her fist while her mother spoke to a friend. Being girls, we stopped and cooed and were a big puddle of sappiness when the mother turned to see who was in her baby’s airspace. It was Gabrielle. I kind of half-pointed at her, said “hey there,” and she smiled in mild recognition. I was about to sigh, “She’s gorgeous,” when the girls called to me to cross the street already.
I took off, consumed with anxiety and self-consciousness. Maybe it’s because I’m still at that rotten job, and she is in such a clearly better place. Maybe it’s just because I’m anti-social like that. More likely, though, she’s just one of these people I’m going to bump into over and over again until I get it right.
comments (6)
Strange how people cross our paths-- but don't be so sure she is in a better place--- you never know.
1 | bluepoppy | September 10, 2004 02:10 PM
hmmm... I'm like you that way. I'm always running from friends who I think might be better than me. I just can't handle my own inferiority complex. Bluepoppy is probably right.
2 | SAJ | September 10, 2004 02:27 PM
Oh my god- you have a time clock at work, too??? So glad I'm not the only one. It's going to be OK.
3 | foodsux | September 10, 2004 02:33 PM
I think you should call her, and find out how she really is. Even if she's doing better, maybe she can help you out?
4 | finelyspungirl | September 10, 2004 06:18 PM
i'm one of the people that always tries to keep in touch. i understand what you're feeling, but when i try to stay in touch with people and they don't reciprocate, i wonder if they really don't like me, or if i'm a stalker, or what.
then of course in 8 months they call and reassure me that they DO like me and all, but are just really bad at staying in touch. whew.
5 | paula | September 11, 2004 12:54 PM
I am the type of person that lets friendships like that slide, not because I don't like the person, just because I can never be sure if they really want me to keep in touch or they are just being polite.
I think perhaps though, you are right. You keep bumping into her for a reason. My mum always says that when you keep bumping into someone, it means they have something important to tell you and you really should listen to them.
My sister always answers her with 'yeah, like it's time to get out of the neighbourhood'.
I am not sure which of them has the right idea, but it is food for thought.
6 | Sarah | September 12, 2004 03:19 AM