The meeting I didn’t expect

It is cold. Like fucking freezing. Why didn’t I take that job with Betsy in Italy? Oh my god, why do I live in Scotland?

Right, besides me freezing my arse off, quite a lot has happened since yesterday.

I had my meeting with Dickie and RobotPA yesterday. It was these really spanky offices in the city centre that I didn’t even know existed. They looked out across the Tay and were quite plush. The name on the door was not one that I recognised, and when I arrived I shyly asked the Receptionist what kind of business it was. She said something about oil and gas law and finance. I had no idea. I then asked what Dickie’s role in the company was, and to be honest, it sounds made up. Like Chief Controller of Multiflorous Data and Systematic Pilcrows. Okay, it clearly wasn’t that, but it was Chief something I’ve never heard of.

Pronoun confusion and other legal stuff

Where did I leave off? Oh yeah, the Intern texted me and asked me to caller her. I went into my room and called her straight away.

The Intern’s mum told her that Giles doesn’t own the Agency, and evidently this is common knowledge. (Common knowledge to everyone but me.) His brother actually owns the agency.

Remember how I mentioned (did I mention this?) that Giles’ name wasn’t Giles because the name on the contract has a different first name. Well, I thought ‘Giles’ was some sort of posh school boy nickname. You know how they all have like six names but go by ‘Dickie’ or something ridiculous. Yeah, I thought that was the case with Giles. Well, it isn’t. Or, actually, it could be. Maybe Giles’ name isn’t Giles’, but that’s not important as his brother owns the Agency and it’s why there’s a different name on the contract. And it’s why there was a second person at the contract signing that looked just like Giles. (Then again all posh old men look alike to me.)

Should I set myself free?

London called early this morning saying that Giles has not only now decided to let them out of their non-existent employment contract, he’s paying them the rest of the money owed for the sale of the Agency. She thinks he’s too worried that if it goes to court he’ll owe even more, which is likely as London and Paris are taking him to court in England and in France. London then asked again if I wanted to come work with them. I said I’d chat to her about it tonight.

When infatuation goes too far…and other work gossip

Just MacDraggyFeet and myself are in the office today, so I feel okay blogging for a bit.

Yesterday in St Andrews was a really good. Confusing, but good.

The ride into town was quite awkward and it wasn’t until we could see the spire of Sally’s that HP asked what I had planned on doing in St Andrews. I had no idea. I figured that there had to be some sort of St Andrews Day ‘thing’ going on, but I hadn’t even thought to look it up in advance.

Film and boss deconstruction

Goatee and I went and saw Mockingjay last night. What an amazing series. I could never get into the books too much, mostly because they are written in first person present tense and that drives me crazy. But the films I am really into. I leave the theatre feeling totally fearless and like I can take on the world. (And the films aren’t as gory as the books.)

Lying Coworker

My bloggy woggy followers who have been kind enough to listen to my whinge when no one else will. Betsy ignored my texts today. Donna did text me back but said, ‘I don’t have time for your drama just now.’ Fucking cow. Tried calling Rich, and talked to his wife for a bit before she obviously fobbed me off with a fake ‘Gotta go someone’s at the door’ excuse. Talked to Mike for like ten seconds, before he said ‘At least you weren’t dumped in a foreign country.’ Yeah. He has no sympathy whatsoever. I can’t talk to Katie because she’s bestest buddies with Candy (even if she is moving out of Candy’s flat), and I’m still mad at her about quitting her internship anyway. Oh, shit. You know who would probably totally listen to me whinge and get me drunk on expensive red wine in the process? Hubby. I’ll text him…

…Texted Hubby. ‘HP has walked out.’

Literary Agents are not Publishers

Thought I was feeling better so I went back to work today. Such a bad idea.

I was fine until lunch then I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. Desperate for a nap, I popped home in a taxi for what I thought would be an hour snooze.  I woke up at 3.30 from the phone ringing. It was BigEyes and she was having some sort of melt down because some random was told that we’d publish their book, and they called to find if it would be out by Christmas.

The death of social media and why I don’t surf

Finally feeling slightly better. After a day of cold medicine and duvet time, I feel only slightly human.

Sorry for the lack of post yesterday, but ended up leaving work early and crawling into bed, but not before the usual Monday drama…which actually started on Sunday night.

I was woken to my phone ringing at 2am and I thought it was HP (as he wasn’t home when I got in), and it wasn’t. It was Sarah. Screaming. She was yelling that I never got over her and Pete, and that’s why I sent him to Canada.

Walking Office Space

I haven’t been able to blog all weekend and it’s like I’ve had my mouth duct taped shut. Okay, not really. As I typed that I realised that kind of conjured up some sinister shit, and not being able to blog isn’t like being bound and gagged. But, wanted to post, but always had someone hovering over me. I’ll see how much I get through now, but may have to finish tomorrow, and I’ll try to hit the highlights rather than just waffle on.

So, Friday. I was all prepared to talk to Giles about Patch talking to publishers without even doing the most basic background. Had my notes and my points written out so I wouldn’t do one of my rambling freak-out which just ends in my crying ’It’s not fair’.

Omissions and bravado followed by something positive

Oh, by the way, we paid the registration and nonrefundable plane ticket for MacDraggyFeet to go to Berlin for the Publishing Conference. And, she didn’t go. At the last minute her goat fell ill. Yep, she has goats. Oh, and it gets better. She didn’t tell anyone she didn’t go, it just came up in conversation today. And how it’s come up in conversation is even more annoying than the fact that she didn’t go.

Patch and BigEyes’ flirting session moved from how he’s the happy martyr to his role in the Frankfurt Book Fair. (Which, by the way, was not a part of our Monday meeting. At no point did neither MacDraggyFeet or Patch even mention their trip.)

Here’s how today’s most recent conversation went between Patch and BigEyes…