I Got A Job

Yeah, so it looks like my references checked out okay, and I'll be going down to 634 B'way (or whatever the address is) tomorrow to sign some papers. I am now officially richer than all of you and own more stock options. It turned out that the Non-Compete Agreement, which prevents me from working at a competing company (as determined by DataSynapse management) for up to a year after I leave, was not negotiable. That kind of irked me, but I did a little research, and it sounds like it's probably non-enforceable in New York, as per this ruling.

And not a moment too soon, since CSFB is starting to get on my nerves. The asshole-nice guy ration among the bankers is roughly 50-50; the women in the assistant pool are insufferable -- all they do all day is talk on the phone, giving advice to friends with chronic health problems; they keyboard gets confused when I try to type a tilde (~) or a double-quote; and I have to wear a stupid "visitor" sticker on my shirt so I can get into and out of the building.

There was this creepy guy on the bus today with a voice not unlike that of the guy from the candy bar commercial who rewards an altruistic motorist with "a big hug," and he wanted to know what my sticker meant. "Are you a visitor?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I'm a temp."

"You work for Tim?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I'm a temporary employee in an office building."

"How did you get that job?" he asked. Good question.
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Last night, Mer and I watched Spirited Away; the night before that we peeped Catch Me If You Can. Both well-reviewed by The Onion A.V. Club, who have a hilarious review of DVD commentary tracks for a round-up of terrible movies, both good. Coincedence? I think not. Thank you, snivelling, back-biting Nathan Rabin!