Life After Iswadi
Now that my bosom buddy has left for greener pastures to Impax (read: gently forced out by the nice folks at Corporate J&J), I find myself in a precarious situation everyday at noon where I have to either 1) drive across the bay and pay $4 to see him in Hayward, 2) beg Brian to ditch his undergrads, 3) eat at my desk in front of the computer like the hardworking guy that I am, or 4) go downstairs to the cafeteria with all the young working moms in my group. Lately, what has been happening more and more is option number four.
It is not that there is anything wrong with this, and in fact, I do enjoy their company a lot. It's just that there is only so much I can add to the conversation! As much as I hate to admit, I have only so many vomit and poo stories to tell, and in no way are any of them cute.
I miss the days when I can just chat about WoW, Jay Chou, and cute girls for hours. Maybe it is time to move to tech, where even though it has a 10:1 male-to-female ratio, at least more of my colleagues are closer in age. I am only now beginning to understand this whole life-phase discrepancy thing.
It is not that there is anything wrong with this, and in fact, I do enjoy their company a lot. It's just that there is only so much I can add to the conversation! As much as I hate to admit, I have only so many vomit and poo stories to tell, and in no way are any of them cute.
I miss the days when I can just chat about WoW, Jay Chou, and cute girls for hours. Maybe it is time to move to tech, where even though it has a 10:1 male-to-female ratio, at least more of my colleagues are closer in age. I am only now beginning to understand this whole life-phase discrepancy thing.
