New Job

All is cleared up about job today. Am not, in fact, headed for position in the CIA or other secret organization, but to job in English department which was discussed with Dean ages ago. Method of getting information is brisk conversation with Svetlana. Svetlana very very informative about job--in the middle there is a side conversation about who the Chair of Photography has been sleeping with--his defining feature is a very bad comb over--remaining hair a nasty unnatural brick color--and he often looks sweaty--Svetlana says bitterly, It is the power that they are attracted to, not the man himself. (Privately, think What Power?) We get back to the matter at hand, new job, which will make me not a secretary and I will be paid what seems like an enormous salary. (am sure that will have no trouble disposing of any extra that comes in.) Svetlana hands me piles of papers to fill out for new job, also job description, a book that the Dean would like me to read, and some fliers for her primitive instrument performance. Make a move to go. Sventlana then turns chatty and actually smiles. Am finally allowed to leave. When go back upstairs, am carring files and spending money in head. Open door and hear Surprise shouted by many voices. Throw files in the air and turn what feel must be a violent magenta color. Think cynically, that Svetlana's niceness merely a ruse to get me out of the office so that surpise party could be sprung on me. Revelers have apparently begun to celebrate long before I've arrived. The Contessa is sitting on her desk next to the New Man. Both have their feet up on the Contessa's chair and are drinking red wine. The vice-boss makes an obvious show of drinking seltzer out of a clear plastic cup and refusing all offers of other refreshment. Libby is using brusque tone with Billy, hear her say, "A Monkey Could Transfer Calls." Billy very impressively nods and smiles without any apparent ire. Am fiercly curious about how he manages this, but am handed glass of Champagne and expected to give speech. Wish very strongly that had been allowed to drink Champagen before speaking. Mouth very dry. Think grimly that if had a stroke at this instant would not be expected to give speech. All eyes are on me and no blood clot gets thrown, so say bare minimum, which is acceptable and everyone claps. The Dean, chair of photography, Susan, and even Romeo arrive, followed by hordes more. Can only believe that they are here for the booze. Party becomes very lively, especially when am given and very unwisely open bottle of Macallen. After several fingers of the whiskey feel emotional and think that might want to give a second speech, but the Contessa--thankfully--says that I need to Eat Something and sits me down with a large piece of cheesecake.