this week in temping i am working in the ceo's office of a national chain that sells soaps and candles to people for too much money -- the kind of place that when you walk into one of their stores you instantly get a headache from all of the overly scented melon, berry, mango, cocoa peppermint hand soap, body washes, lotions and oils that line the shelves. there's a 1 in 2 chance you can guess which place it is.
anyway, yesterday -- my first day here -- was crazy. i actually had work to do and most of it involved getting the ceo a variety of decaffeinated beverages and summoning car services (suv only!!). at one point i asked him if he was ready for his next meeting and he told me to ask someone else if they were ready and "don't bother me with this." awesome. this man in charge of convincing us that women should smell like an orchard just happens to be the kind of ceo who adores himself. so much so that he doesn't have a picture of his wife or children in his office (which i know for a fact exist) -- but rather a professionally done, wall size, photo montage of himself taken by some photographer of standing.
i don't mean pictures of him skiing, cooking, at work, at play -- i mean a photo shoot resulting in a montage of moments where he experiences a variety of emotions: joy, calm, thoughtfulness, disillusionment and finally confusion as he realizes he smells like he just emerged from a bath of vanilla, sage, lemon, strawberry scented salts and, contrary to what he tries to tell us, it does not smell good.
if i thought i could take a picture of it and post it without risking the .00001% chance of getting caught, sued, and banned from working in the pseudo-luxury sector again (oh the shame!), i would do it. let's just say he's not as attractive as he thinks. . .