Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Boss G wondered over a nightcap yesterday what precisely would happen if someone were to punch an accountant, like, right in the face. She’d be in the black, I offered, eminently pleased that the ol’ gears were still churning with two mojitos under the belt. The mint-infused beverage remains the favorite, and instead of expanding the breadth of my palate I’ve decided to focus on the depth–specifically increasing the drink count without any ill effects. A second mojito is hardly noteworthy, I know, but for me it was a milestone, an invitation to test the limits of my liver and discover, perhaps, that three is an even better number than two.

The alcohol isn’t flowing for its own sake, of course, so much as a way to grease the wheels of high society. It’s a necessary component in the social plan, which you may recall dissolved in the ruinous wake of a Mick Jagger look-a-like, a mom, and an abortive night on the town. But my spirit is indomitable and undeterred I continue, compass firmly directed toward the local interactive marketing association. It seems to make sense: a chance to help build something new, to engage in a community, to push along the career.

Part of me is hesitant, weighed down by networking experiences in Chicago. Networking. There’s the word. I’m reminded of crowds, a hurried, empty feeling, and what really amounted to an explosion of business cards. It’s time for a clean slate, though. I’m hoping to dig through all this expected noise and find something meaningful, and to this end I’ve drawn a lot of inspiration from the family dog, newly adopted last year. He’s part German Shepherd–so am I–and whenever he lands in foreign territory, say the vet’s office, he simply hails each person, extends a paw, and shakes. Shake, shake, shake. He may have taught me everything I’ll need to know.