A Banner Week at Casa Marissa

Part 1 in a series of however long it takes me to finish

Wow! Where do I begin?

Let's start with the calendar beginning of the week. August 10. My sister Maureen's birthday. That in itself is a great beginning for a seven day stretch. Celebrating the anniversary of the birth of a loved one is always fantastic!

Unfortunately, I had to work that day. That aspect sort of wreaked, but I trudged through and ended the very busy business day with a bang! At the time I didn't think it was potential TNT.

While making eye wear I was alerted that I had a phone call. Man-cub had already called a couple of times as he was stressing about the computer getting pop-up warnings from McAfee or inquiring about what could be consumed for lunch. I answered hurriedly and mildly agitated (making eyeglasses under a time limit will do that.) The voice on the other line was not that of my offspring. A voice from the not so distant past chimed musically to my ears. A former co-worker -- short-term -- was calling from his new place of employment. Same line of work; different company.

It's not unusual to get an occasional call from a competitor. There are times when customer service requires flirting with the enemy to get the job done. This call had absolutely nothing to do with professional courtesy. Yet, flirting was involved.

WAIT! I had glasses to make in an hour and I had no time for this giggling, hair tossing and eyelash batting.

I told my gentleman caller that although I was really happy, bordering on ecstatic, to hear from him, I had no time for casual chatter. He accepted my apology and understood completely. He also asked if he might call me later. "Sure. Would you like my home phone number?"

Right. Another DUH! moment for Marissa. To be fully truthful, I have always flirted with this guy. So that portion of the call wasn't really unusual. Even when it was a professional call we flirted innocently. He had a girlfriend; I have the freedom and natural ability to flirt. Go me! **such a natural ability gets me no where fast, by the way.

The phone rang. His promise of call later meant what it usually does. Take notes AsshatRunningMan. I digress.

Throughout the call he asked about me. Listened when I spoke. I even let him talk! I was most impressed by the fact he had recollection about things we discussed in our short (2 week) period of working together. Anyone who can remember items from my blathering pool is always aces in my book.

In the time between the work call and the call at home I had convinced myself that he and his boss (another person I know through work) were wanting to recruit me for the company where they are employed. With all sincerity I didn't believe that this man would call me for personal reasons. Well, not for anything more than just playing catch up.

Little by little the questions were directed toward more personal endeavors. I shared with him the laughable, short lived relationship with ARM. I instructed him to watch Zoolander for reference points requiring ARM's intense look.

Let me veer off the road for a second. I don't know if I mentioned this before, but ARM would get this Derek Zoolander BLUE STEEL or MAGNUM look when he was deep in thought or trying to convince me that he was serious. As a result of this facial expression, I would burst into laughter. In turn, he would become frustrated. HA! Asshat!

It became increasingly apparent that this call had nothing to do with employment. My nervous laugh was on the rise. My calmer inner voice told me to relax, but the spaz ran amok. Totally ridiculous; yet, completely understandable if you know me well.

I have found that flirtation is often a narcissistic means of having one's ego stroked. I say to a man he's so adorable and touch his shoulder for 2 seconds longer than 'the norm' as I giggle and flip my hair. In return, he says something flattering like, "coming from you I'm ______" insert appropriate (or inappropriate) volley.

So, enough side stepping. This man asked if I was free to go to dinner with him. I gladly accepted and confessed that I was relieved the call wasn't about work. Tentative arrangements were made and he said he would call later in the week to confirm. Go me!

Oh! As I turned 43 this week, this particular gentleman's invitation for dinner came with a kick to my often frail ego: He's 33.

Go me! Hell to the yeah! Who's got it goin' on ? Me! That's right. I said me! Me! ME!