Chirky

Brain. Fried.

I think I should inform you that my job entails buying companies. The company for which I work seeks out corporations nationwide, and then we buy them.

Except it is nothing like Richard Gere made it out to be in Pretty Woman, or else I am quite sure I would be a billionaire in a penthouse somewhere in LA with a wig-wearing hooker, and at least the women in that movie were both better dressed and seemingly friendlier than the prostitutes in Dallas. Of course, it's their job to be friendly, VERY friendly, and not that I'm promoting the profession, if it can be called that, but if I made $30,000 a month, I'd probably be pretty friendly too. It's true! I watched a special on the news a couple years ago, and in that special the news guy was telling all of Dallas/Fort Worth that prostitutes from Vegas were moving to Dallas because they could make more money here.

I want to know who is paying for all this prostitution. Thirty Thousand Dollars worth? A month? Do you know how many pairs of shoes I could buy with thirty thousand dollars?

Speaking of shoes, this morning when I was getting ready for work I discovered that for some outfits, one pair of my black shoes just seem too casual. This is actually something I already knew, but somehow today that realization was much more shocking than the other days I realized it. Another pair don't have enough of a heel. Another pair are too dressy, and all my other pairs are open-toe, which I cannot bring myself to wear until after Easter. This inability to wear certain items until a certain date is the result of years of lectures from my mother and grandmother. The Rules go something like this:

1. Do not wear white shoes or white pants before Easter or after Labor Day.
2. Do not wear open-toe or strappy shoes before Easter or after Labor Day.
3. Do not wear a felt hat after Easter or before Halloween.
4. Do not wear a straw hat before Easter or after Halloween.

Actually, those last two my mom didn't teach me - I learned those my freshman year of college at SFA, also known as That Place Where I Nearly Flunked Out, But By George, I Could Hold My Liquor. At SFA, you fell into two categories: Those Who Were Cowboys, and Those Who Really Didn't Care, But Went Two-Stepping And Participated in Bikini Contests Anyway. I won't tell you which category I fell into, but it didn't involve riding horses or wearing straw hats while two-stepping and hitting my dance partner in the head with the brim of my hat because I lost all coordination after that first Budweiser.

And because of The Rules, I have determined that I need a new pair of middle-of-the-road black shoes. Ergo, I'm taking suggestions from you, Internet.

Historically, the most acquisitions I have personally handled concurrently is two. Maybe three, if one popped up on the tail-end of closing the first two. Rarely do we stack them and attempt to do more than one at once, because THERE'S JUST ME. And since my job is to conduct due diligence and review every minor detail of every. single. company., it is sometimes difficult to juggle more than two simultaneously.

But! My walls are filled with charts galore, because we have THIRTEEN companies in the queue, which makes me so frazzled that I just want to lean back in my chair and ignore it all. And while I'm leaning back, I might as well relax. And while I'm relaxing, I might as well go home and relax. And while I'm home, relaxing, I might as well eat the rest of the chocolate ice cream in the freezer. And while I'm eating the chocolate ice cream, I might as well sprinkle mini-marshmallows and crumbled Oreos and fresh-cut strawberries over the ice cream. And while I'm doing that, I might as well sit on the couch and veg, because my brain is filled to its capacity.

And that is why I do not know what day it is today. I am plopped in front of my computer, amongst the cushioned walls of my workspace, drafting letters of intent to purchase companies and reviewing due diligence of such companies and revising purchase and sale agreements and incorrectly answering every question that someone asks when they barge in to the confines of The Cushioned Walls, because I simply cannot keep all the companies straight in my head.

Do my coworkers not know that is why email was invented? So that you don't have to talk to actually talk to each other. So that people who are busy can respond at their leisure, and have time to form an intellectual response rather than go, "uuuhhhh...hold on. let me look it up."

Which brings me back to my fifth point: instead, I should be sitting in my living room gorging on ice cream, the most obvious and healthy solution to all of my problems.