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If I didn't know any better, I'd think there was a Skopje-wide conspiracy to renew my interest in Mr H. The tactics the conspirators are employing are a bit unorthodox, so if I believed in the conspiracy theory I could only presume they know me extremely well.
So, Friday evening:
Spanish National Day reception. I'd done a bit of very low-impact home sports and then had to forego the shower, because boss called in an abysmally depressed mood (more about that later), and we were on the phone for half an hour. Face-washing and -reembellishing was possible, though, and since I didn't have an outfit crisis, I managed to get ready in time for Blerim to pick me up.
Many of the usual suspects were at the reception, and I was just talking to my Swiss and Polish colleagues, when Mr H's (unfortunately still lovely) voice made goose bumps rise all over yours truly. Damn that voice.
H: I was sure you wouldn't miss this glamorous event, my dear.
Me: So you're still stalking me, are you?
There was a bit of banter, and then he asked whether we were going to play another double on Sunday, i.e. today.
Me: But why? I mean this can't be fun for you!
H: shrugs and looks mysterious.
Me: You just like to win, don't you? No matter whether you're playing against a blind person with only one arm or somebody of equal skills. OK, I'll set something up.
I left the reception a little after 8 and went on to Petra's birthday party. It was a great party, and I met a few interesting, new people. But I also had a long talk with XY, who works at [...]. XY asked me about Ankara, and I told a few choice bits. Upon which XY proceeded to tell me a few choice bits about Mr H, mostly related to his management style, but there was also the bit about drunk driving. And the one about ruthlessly mobbing and sacking and/or demoting people he dislikes, i.e. who don't cater to his every whim. Oh, and there was also the shouting at his employees, and the (rather funny) fact that he seems to have hired something like a self-management coach. This last bit was mere conjecture, though, based on the fact that he now writes down what he wants to tell people and then reads it off.
Why, you will ask yourselves, provided you aren't currently trying to un-stick your eyes which have got stuck because of all the eye-rolling, why does all this information renew the stupid woman's interest in the guy?
Well, it intrigues me rather than renewing my interest. Or... well, something like that.
Because I'm terminally curious when it comes to people, not just Mr H. And the more stories of horror I hear about him, the more I'm intrigued by this Jekyll-and-Hyde-thingy. Plus, XY was the second [...] employee to tell me that everybody wishes Mr H would get himself a girlfriend -- they all seem to think that getting laid on a regular basis would improve, if not his character, then at least his mood. But, as I remarked to XY, if there's nobody willing to do the job here in Skopje, where women are generally inclined to take a lot of crap in order to snatch up a prestigious foreigner, he really must be a nasty piece of work. Yes, said XY, they used to last two days and then ran off screaming. (This, BTW, fits in nicely with what my Swedish colleague told me a few months ago about Mr H dating every available single woman in Skopje when he arrived here, and the current lack of any dating-related activity -- he just used them all up very quickly, or word got round very quickly)
Yesterday I played tennis rather early (8.30), then met Irene for a coffee, and we went on to the gym. A bit of Siesta in the early afternoon, and off we went to the main square to see the wine fair and say hello to Zarko and family. In the back of Zarko's stand there was a trestle table and wooden benches for the friends, and who should be there but three [...] employees, one of whom I'd already met. Since none of them know me very well, there were only veiled references to Mr H's horribleness, but please bear in mind that I hadn't even brought him up.
At 7 we had dinner with AB, another [...] employee, and his wife -- I'd only superficially met him, but Irene and I are friends with his wife. Excellent food, good wine in not-so-small quantities, and AB began spilling the beans about Mr H. This time the menu contained sexual harassment and being completely irrational when people try to explain to him that, in spite of being the boss, he has to respect certain guidelines, especially where financial issues are concerned.
When I went out for a cigarette with Irene, I was already laughing helplessly, because all this being fed information without so much as asking for it was beginning to become rather bizarrely amusing, especially given the fact that everybody is mortally afraid Mr H might find out they complained about him, paired with the fact that I'm playing tennis with him today. (Not going to grass on them, of course)
We went back to the wine fair a little after 9 and had a lovely time with Vesna, Slavica and Violeta -- dancing to some excellent music was involved, as were lots of Zarko's fantastic wine. Got back home around 1 a.m. and slept till 7 like a stone.
And today I have the honour to play tennis with Dr. Jekyll. And at 4 I'll be having a late lunch/early dinner with Carla, his assistant.
I have decided that, since the nature of my interest in him has certainly changed -- now it's more on the clinical side, though the patient is admittedly still very much on the gorgeous side -- I'll ask him out for dinner tonight. It would be a nice completion of the circle that started on Friday with meeting him at the reception, and given my still-stable zenitude, I'm sure I could learn a lot more about him and thus satisfy my curiosity.
Re boss being depressed on Friday: he'd got a call from Vienna suggesting that he apply for the post of director of the Austrian Cultural Forum in Istanbul. For those unacquainted with the subtle rules of Austrian diplomatic service: it's the equivalent of a slap to the face. Poor, poor boss. But I think I've almost convinced him to ask for an extension of his mandate here. Will have to coach him to do that along the lines of "Look, you may stick Istanbul where the sun don't shine, but if I offer to do this shit job here in Skopje for one more year, why not give me something adequate after that?"
Oh, and the back is getting better. Not quite ok yet, but there's light at the end of the tunnel.
Have good Sundays, all of you!
Yours in amused bewilderment
PW37
So, Friday evening:
Spanish National Day reception. I'd done a bit of very low-impact home sports and then had to forego the shower, because boss called in an abysmally depressed mood (more about that later), and we were on the phone for half an hour. Face-washing and -reembellishing was possible, though, and since I didn't have an outfit crisis, I managed to get ready in time for Blerim to pick me up.
Many of the usual suspects were at the reception, and I was just talking to my Swiss and Polish colleagues, when Mr H's (unfortunately still lovely) voice made goose bumps rise all over yours truly. Damn that voice.
H: I was sure you wouldn't miss this glamorous event, my dear.
Me: So you're still stalking me, are you?
There was a bit of banter, and then he asked whether we were going to play another double on Sunday, i.e. today.
Me: But why? I mean this can't be fun for you!
H: shrugs and looks mysterious.
Me: You just like to win, don't you? No matter whether you're playing against a blind person with only one arm or somebody of equal skills. OK, I'll set something up.
I left the reception a little after 8 and went on to Petra's birthday party. It was a great party, and I met a few interesting, new people. But I also had a long talk with XY, who works at [...]. XY asked me about Ankara, and I told a few choice bits. Upon which XY proceeded to tell me a few choice bits about Mr H, mostly related to his management style, but there was also the bit about drunk driving. And the one about ruthlessly mobbing and sacking and/or demoting people he dislikes, i.e. who don't cater to his every whim. Oh, and there was also the shouting at his employees, and the (rather funny) fact that he seems to have hired something like a self-management coach. This last bit was mere conjecture, though, based on the fact that he now writes down what he wants to tell people and then reads it off.
Why, you will ask yourselves, provided you aren't currently trying to un-stick your eyes which have got stuck because of all the eye-rolling, why does all this information renew the stupid woman's interest in the guy?
Well, it intrigues me rather than renewing my interest. Or... well, something like that.
Because I'm terminally curious when it comes to people, not just Mr H. And the more stories of horror I hear about him, the more I'm intrigued by this Jekyll-and-Hyde-thingy. Plus, XY was the second [...] employee to tell me that everybody wishes Mr H would get himself a girlfriend -- they all seem to think that getting laid on a regular basis would improve, if not his character, then at least his mood. But, as I remarked to XY, if there's nobody willing to do the job here in Skopje, where women are generally inclined to take a lot of crap in order to snatch up a prestigious foreigner, he really must be a nasty piece of work. Yes, said XY, they used to last two days and then ran off screaming. (This, BTW, fits in nicely with what my Swedish colleague told me a few months ago about Mr H dating every available single woman in Skopje when he arrived here, and the current lack of any dating-related activity -- he just used them all up very quickly, or word got round very quickly)
Yesterday I played tennis rather early (8.30), then met Irene for a coffee, and we went on to the gym. A bit of Siesta in the early afternoon, and off we went to the main square to see the wine fair and say hello to Zarko and family. In the back of Zarko's stand there was a trestle table and wooden benches for the friends, and who should be there but three [...] employees, one of whom I'd already met. Since none of them know me very well, there were only veiled references to Mr H's horribleness, but please bear in mind that I hadn't even brought him up.
At 7 we had dinner with AB, another [...] employee, and his wife -- I'd only superficially met him, but Irene and I are friends with his wife. Excellent food, good wine in not-so-small quantities, and AB began spilling the beans about Mr H. This time the menu contained sexual harassment and being completely irrational when people try to explain to him that, in spite of being the boss, he has to respect certain guidelines, especially where financial issues are concerned.
When I went out for a cigarette with Irene, I was already laughing helplessly, because all this being fed information without so much as asking for it was beginning to become rather bizarrely amusing, especially given the fact that everybody is mortally afraid Mr H might find out they complained about him, paired with the fact that I'm playing tennis with him today. (Not going to grass on them, of course)
We went back to the wine fair a little after 9 and had a lovely time with Vesna, Slavica and Violeta -- dancing to some excellent music was involved, as were lots of Zarko's fantastic wine. Got back home around 1 a.m. and slept till 7 like a stone.
And today I have the honour to play tennis with Dr. Jekyll. And at 4 I'll be having a late lunch/early dinner with Carla, his assistant.
I have decided that, since the nature of my interest in him has certainly changed -- now it's more on the clinical side, though the patient is admittedly still very much on the gorgeous side -- I'll ask him out for dinner tonight. It would be a nice completion of the circle that started on Friday with meeting him at the reception, and given my still-stable zenitude, I'm sure I could learn a lot more about him and thus satisfy my curiosity.
Re boss being depressed on Friday: he'd got a call from Vienna suggesting that he apply for the post of director of the Austrian Cultural Forum in Istanbul. For those unacquainted with the subtle rules of Austrian diplomatic service: it's the equivalent of a slap to the face. Poor, poor boss. But I think I've almost convinced him to ask for an extension of his mandate here. Will have to coach him to do that along the lines of "Look, you may stick Istanbul where the sun don't shine, but if I offer to do this shit job here in Skopje for one more year, why not give me something adequate after that?"
Oh, and the back is getting better. Not quite ok yet, but there's light at the end of the tunnel.
Have good Sundays, all of you!
Yours in amused bewilderment
PW37
