Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous’s Assistants

This week I had a taste of Just the Assistant Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

My pal Ann works for a really important company. Her office is on the 61st floor of a building downtown. The office break room has marble countertops and the office refrigerator has a wooden door that matches the cabinets. This is their office break room. Not a house. A break room.

Ann is aware of my fancy assistant skills. That’s why she asked me to help her (wo)man an event her company held this week. My job was to utilize the most important skill of any Just the Assistant – helping people find their nametag out of a batch of alphabetized nametags on a table.

The thing about the ole mortgage events I used to help with is that I know a little about mortgages. I know what a mortgage is and I know what a mortgage banker is. But this company I worked for Tuesday? Nothing. I know absolutely nothing about what they do. I know it involves money.

It’s been about nine months since I’ve been a real assistant, so I brushed up on my performance in the mirror while getting ready. “Welcome!” [insert large flashy smile and possible flip of the hair] “Here are the nametags, and they should be in alphabetical order – ha ha ha! Oh look, there you are!”

For further preparation I actually took a picture of myself in the mirror and texted it to Ann to make sure I wouldn’t humiliate her. I had to post the picture here to point out the striking resemblance of my face to my mother’s face when she presses microwave or camera buttons. I don’t have a handy picture of my mom doing either of those things, so you’ll have to trust me.

Upon arrival, I was awestruck. Have you ever seen movies where the man goes to “the club”? Not like a naked lady club and not a fight club, but like an old college club. And it’s this dark wooden room where men wear tuxedos and smoke cigars and drink brandy? And they sometimes sing? Okay, I honestly did not think those really exist. I thought that was just a movie thing. But they really exist! That’s where this meeting was!

Below, I take advantage of the only opportunity I may ever have in my life to sit on a leather chair in a men’s club and play a large wooden game:

The nametag distributions went wonderfully.

They also had us passing out shirts. Shirts! The only events at which I’ve ever received a shirt are races that I’ve paid to enter. Meaning I bought the shirt. But these babies were free:

During the nametag/shirt distribution, I happened to eavesdrop on a fascinating conversation.

Man in Suit: Well Jim So-and-So, it’s so good to see you. [Hand shake] I was thinking about you the other day because I ran into Jack So-and-So. Have you seen him recently?

Other Man in Suit: Oh I did see Jack So-and-So recently. We went on a duck hunt together.

Me (thinking): A duck hunt?

My mind wandered as I pondered the different sports that men who go to “the club” play. Below, I have listed sports played/viewed by level of wealth. My list begins at number 84 because I figure there are at least 83 other sports that I don’t know about that would come before backyard wrestling. Likewise, I do not know how high the list goes. There are probably people who see how far they can throw gold into a river or something that would rank in the 100’s.

84. Participating in Backyard Wrestling (as spectator or contestant or one who helped build the ring)

85. Watching Televised Wrestling (by an adult without children)

86. Watching Televised or Live Nascar

87. Fishing (on friend’s boat that may be reposessed at anytime)

88. Hunting (deer, squirrel, quail)

89. Golfing

90. Fishing (own boat, no payments)

91. Triathlons

92. Hunting (duck, bear, moose)

93. Tennis

94. Hunting (zebra)

95. Polo

Now before you all go slandering me (kidding – I don’t have enough readers to warrant stuff like that), know that I have loved ones in every category. Okay not backyard wrestling; that’s just crazy. And not polo; that’s crazy too. Okay and I don’t technically know anyone who’s killed a zebra, but I did attend an engagement party once where there was a real zebra chair with the mane sticking out the back. (I didn’t sit on it.)

You may be wondering if my taste of fancy Just the Assistant life tempted to lure me away from James and Chad. Nah. While I enjoyed my time downtown, I still prefer the ole Bosses’ events where we pass out margaritas  and hugs instead of golf shirts.

Now, off to badger James about installing some marble in our break room. . .

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