In case you were living under a rock, the east coast was hit by a horrific heatwave last week. Not only did outdoor temperatures feel like 104 degrees Fahrenheit, but my mind was on week-end cruise control since my supervisor was away on vacation.
My priority when picking out my work clothes last Friday morning was coolness, for once in terms of physical condition and not fashion trends. Having sweat off half of my water weight while waiting for the six downtown to City Hall/Brooklyn Bridge, I realized that I had neglected to grab my id from my desk before leaving work the day before.
Instead of "keeping calm and carrying on" I freaked. For whatever reason (I'll blame the heat) I was convinced that the security guard was not going to let me up to my office, meaning that I would hand scan in late, which in turn would deduct from my precious vacation time.
I hadn't even gotten "I left my id at my desk" out of my mouth when the guard laxly waved me through with what seemed to be a hand wave. Then again he could've been sending me the universal hand signal to stop, but I was already through the metal detector, and it would've taken more energy than necessary in the heat to call me back.
Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to catch the elevator that all of the other paralegals were taking up to the eighth floor. One thing you've got to understand about these elevators is that they are the jaws of death. Seriously, if you don't watch it, they'll take your arm right off! Anyways I noticed that the doors to the far elevator were just about to close. Out of a unnecessary act of desperation (I was ten minutes ahead of schedule) I lunged for the "up" button.
Miraculously, the doors slid back open. In a hot mess I tried to simultaneously throw my blazer on while pushing the eighth floor button. Now before proceeding any further, a reminder is necessary. That morning while getting dressed, professionalism was the last thing on my mind. Consequentially, I had grabbed a black tan and laced skirt, a purple lulu lemon athletica tank (to absorb the sweat of course), and a white blazer. Granted it wasn't the worst thing to be wearing, but the last thing you would want Cyrus Vance, THE Manhattan District Attorney to see you in during a first encounter.
Back to the story, I was intrigued to see that the eighth floor button was already pushed since that NEVER happens. As the doors shut, I became uncomfortably conscious of the fact that the elevator was practically empty. Again something that NEVER happens in New York City. As if in slow motion, I turned around to come face to face with Cyrus Vance, with only his body guard standing between us.
"Good morning" he smiled from beneath his black Ray Ban sunglasses. "Here it is", I thought to myself, "my chance to impress Cyrus Vance, my boss of bosses." I opened my mouth, and wouldn't you know, the only thing that came out was "It's really hot outside!"
Instead of asking him about the DSK proceedings, or his opinion of the internal affairs of the American government, I have to comment on the most banal topic known to man...the weather! Fortunately, he was friendly enough and responded with an equally obvious reply "Why yes it is." A couple of semi-awkward moments of silents passed as the elevator passed from the sixth to the seventh floors.
Once we arrived at our level, I stepped out and decided to own what I had started. "Have a great day, and try to stay cool." Next time I will definitely be more prepared, and will redeem myself from being the "weather girl".
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