Our train this morning was running 15 minutes late. I’m always late for work when I’m on that train anyway because it gets into Union Station when I’m supposed to be starting work, so an additional 15 minutes necessitated a phone call to my supervisor. I borrowed Kevin’s Blackberry and made my call. We sat there in a bit of dismayed silence for awhile, then:
– I like your office voice.
– Hah, yea?
– Yea, you were all "[mocking reenactment of phone call]" and I was wondering who the hell that was because it certainly wasn’t MY wife. Holy crap! Can you get my wife back?
I always knew I had an "office voice" but I did not realize it was so pronounced that I actually sound like two entirely different people. It is really amazing how this place has split me into two voices, two wardrobes, two personalities. It gets into everything.
In an unrelated conversation yesterday, a friend reminded me that it’s okay to work for the devil (in his case commercial photography, in my case the firm), as long the rest of your time is spent in prayer for the salvation of your soul (personal work). I had said I was only a wannabee and he said, "Don’t you know all artists are wannabees?"
Well. It just made me feel warm and fuzzy. I think this morning’s conversation could be considered evidence that more time needs to spent on the salvation of this particular soul. And that the polo shirts the devil has compelled me to purchase are going in the Goodwill pile. I loathe polo shirts!