Would you care for a Cognac?

(Thursday’s rough draft that I didn't edit before posting)

The days just seem to fly away… slowly. It’s Thursday. Tomorrow is Friday. That means the weekend comes after that. This week has been a little rough, to say the least. I had the first review of my work, and it’s back to the drawing board for me. The criticism is harsh, which is good for two reasons: it toughens me up and makes me a better worker. However, criticism deflates your ego - especially in this case. It’s one thing to be told by professors if they don’t quite understand what you’re talking about. It's an academic setting, and although clarity of writing is key, the ideas we discuss can be complex.

It’s another thing to be told by someone who doesn’t speak English that your writing is hard to understand. And not just any foreign, non-native English-speaker, but a German.

I’ve been staring at computer screens too long today.

(Today’s real post)

The bosses left early today – and while the cats are away, the mice play. A half hour after they left, my co-workers brought out a few bottles of beer and passed them around to celebrate the weekend and a fellow intern's last day. I did not choose to partake, but continued working in the front room by myself. Most of my day is spent staring at a computer/wall (another intern works half days, but she's not much company). I thought of just popping over to say hello and be sociable, even though I didn't drink. Thank my lucky stars, because after everyone had finished the round of beer, one of the sales associates asked if I wanted to pop around the corner for (what sounded like) a cognac. I stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering if he had indeed said "cognac" or if it was some other Spanish word. I said I didn’t drink, but he said to come along anyway and order a Coke.

It. Was. Fun.

Our party consisted of a Belgian girl, an Italian girl, a French girl, an English guy, and… I’m not sure what the other guy was. Guatemalan? Venezuelan? I'll call him a Whatever for now. They all had their beers, and the English had his cigarettes, and I had my Coke. I was included in office culture! It was amusing to watch them drink and try, confusing to speak in three languages. The Italian kept trying to explain Italian tenses by comparing them to French and Spanish tenses; I understood the French, but was a little lost when she talked about the Spanish tenses.

I had my first taste of Russian salad (it might look sweet like cake, but it’s not. Think German potato salad drenched with carrots and mayonnaise), I passed on the peanuts, and I tasted some really good, dry cheese. The Brit said it goes well with beer - figuring how dry my mouth was after the cheese, I believe him.

I feel European! The South Africa-Mexico football match was on, and there were a group of old men sitting at the bar watching the game. I didn't pay too much attention to it. The game wasn't hard to ignore because there was no mass of crazed Spaniards, yelling and cheering for their home team, as I hope will happen later this summer.

After our escapades, we all tottered down to the Metro, where we said goodbye to our French and Italian girls who were going one way, while the Brit, Belgian, Whatever, and I were going the other way. Riding the Metro with company is absolutely wonderful.

In other news I left my pack at the office and had to break into the office to get it, setting off the alarm, but that’s a story that I don’t really want to tell. (I had a key and everything, it’s just that stupid alarm.) Yeah, I hope the police that turned down the street where the office was weren’t responding to that alarm…

Anyway, lesson learned: if someone invites you out with them for a “cognac,” take your pack with you.

So. I feel like I have friends. I really like the Italian and the French chicas. Hey, I really like the English and Whatever guys, as well. I’ve started off the weekend right – now all I have to do is not think about Monday and whatever trouble is awaiting me on the other side of this weekend.