T.G.I.F.

You know you're a government employee when, on Fridays, you send emails to your friends with "T.G.I.F." in the subject line. Does anyone in the real world say anything so lame? Having just completed my third Friday working for the Feds, I have to say I have come to anticipate with great amusement the odd behavior of my fellow co-workers on that sacred day that precedes the weekend. Unfailingly, every ride up the elevator to the ninth floor includes a "T.G.I.F." sentiment to break the awkward silence, just as it accompanies every obligatory greeting from those I pass en route to my cube. I am convinced that perhaps the government's most enduring contribution to society is the invention of "T.G.I.F." Where else would the checking off of another week be so monumental that a catchy acronym would be needed to express the event? (Note: if anyone can come up with an alternative origin of T.G.I.F. please let me know).

Another funny thing about Fridays is that the already sub-standard dress code is relegated to "casual". On my first Friday, I went to work in a sleeveless, black, jersey knit dress, pointy-toe sling backs and chunky turquoise beads thinking I was every bit the "heading to Dewey Beach after work" casual that would be expected of me. However, a woman dressed in head-to-toe bedazzled denim who saw me was quick to suggest otherwise: "Girrrrrrrrrrl, didn't nobody tell you it's casual Friday???" The high pitched voice, the purple beads, and the way she said "casual" in two syllables took me enough off guard to simply shake my head and keep walking.

But the absolute best best BEST thing about working for the government on Fridays, is that next week, I don't have to work at all. I'm officially starting my "compressed" work schedule, which rewards government employees for working what likely amounts to less hours per week than our private sector counterparts (9 hours a day) by giving us every other Friday off. Now that is something worth a T.G.I.F.

The (Un)fabulous Life of a Federal Government Employee

During my first week as a cog in the federal government wheel, I was told that summer interns are being asked to sign contracts saying they will not blog about their work experiences. While I am not an intern, I can assure you that after 2 weeks as a federal government employee, I understand completely why such a pledge is warranted. Stay tuned for stories...

I just wasn't that into you....

So the first funny story I've got from DC involves my bold plunge into the world of Craig's List. I say bold because when I told my mom I was using the site to shop for a roommate, she said, "Oh honey, make sure you request background checks." Suffice it to say, the Craig's List people market is not quite as popular back in Ohio. Nonetheless, emboldened by DC friends who say it's "the way to go", I took the plunge, and this past weekend I met the first two candidates with whom I'd been corresponding.

The funny (and confusing) part was that they were both named John, and while one's full name was John Johnson, the other one went by "JJ". To boot, I was supposed to meet one for lunch at 11:30 and the other for coffee at 1 p.m. at locales within blocks of one another. I felt a bit like Charlotte in that SATC espisode where she double-books. (And let's face it, interviewing potential roommates you've met online smacks of blind dating. There is simply no way to know if you will be awkwardly enduring a meal's worth of forced conversation or totally hitting it off.)

So I spent lunch asking John #1 about biking through Vermont (a story he'd recounted over email) only to get a blank stare in return. (Damn! That was John #2!). Luckily, John #1 was super nice and so unbelievably accommodating that I think I could've convinced him to move into a tree house with me. After an hour (we met for lunch--a mistake I won't repeat) I knew he wasn't going to be my roommate but had no idea how to tell him. So I let him down easy with a "let's just see how it turns out" approach.

By the time I met up with John #2 I felt more empowered. (I'm told by a friend in Manhattan who recently went through this process that it gets easier to make the break the more interviews you go on. Is this like becoming bitter??) Within milliseconds of being greeted by a 6'3" emaciated man carrying the daintiest espresso cup I've ever seen, I knew that it wouldn't work, the same way you just know when you're not going to hit it off on a blind date. (I'm telling you, the similarities are creepy...) Luckily, John #2 gave me an out by saying he wants to stay in Northern Virginia. I told him I was adamant about living in the District and followed it up with a firm, "I think we're going to part ways now, but good luck to you." My second interview was done in 10 minutes flat.

My experience with John #2 reminded me of another great SATC episode...the one that turned into that must-have book for single gals, "He's just not that into you." When I read it after a pretty devastating break up, I felt so empowered that I was dating someone new a month later (only to find out that he just wasn't that into me either, but that's beside the point!). Here I was with John #1 feeling like I didn't want to be the bad guy when it wasn't personal--I just wasn't that into him (co-habitationally speaking). And yet I hemmed and hawed to let him down easy--something most dudes do in the dating world that drives us gals NUTS. (Seriously, tell us you think we're fat or you can't stand the way we sing along to the radio, but don't be a pansy and make excuses or, worse, just fall off the face of the earth.)

So with this blog I offer a cyber-apology to John #1 and a vow to be a straight shooter in this quest for a non-serial killer roommate (or as my friend Josh said, "You mean a non-sniper roommate--we have snipers in DC, not serial killers"). Currently taking applications...