Another Crazy Day

It was another crazy day at work today, but pretty fun. The gallery where I work is having a two day trunk show for a group of artists from France, so the past couple of days have been a flurry of preparation. I'm not in charge, so it hasn't been the most organized of events, but that just means there has not been a single dull moment. I have been helping out in every possible way upstairs, and then running downstairs to do my regular work. I like being able to escape the craziness of the salesfloor and laugh about what goes on up there with my downstairs coworkers. We're a much more relaxed crew down there.

This painting I found on the Internet is a good illustration of my day, although it is a pastiche of "Guernica" by Picasso, which was a response to the 1937 bombing of Guernica, Spain, by the Nazis. My workplace is definitely not as tragic and horrific as a war scene, although there is always some sort of feud going on between some people. I'm the one on the sidelines observing, trying to remain neutral, helping out whomever needs it (I was stitching up someone's dress today) and keeping a lighthearted view of the situation.

An advantage of being a "downstairs" employee is that I don't have to stay late when there are special events. Tonight the gallery stayed open way late because of the French thing, and even though they were serving chocolates and other pretty foods, and even though some of the girls were begging me to stay, I did not. While there is something to be said about having a high-power job and making the big bucks, the life of the peon can be very free. I work my 8 hour day and then I'm free to go. There are no strings on me. The fun part was when I left the store and was walking down the street listening to "Party Time" by Thad Cockrell and Caitlin Cary on my ipod. Suddenly I bumped into a couple of the Frenchmen who were headed to the gallery for the event. They expressed sadness and dismay that I wasn't going to stay, which made me feel special (those two were quite handsome, too!) but I told them I had very important things to do. So we said farewell and I hopped on the uptown train. At home I changed into pajamas and jumped into bed with a fashion magazine, a laptop, and a baked potato. What could be more important than doing that?