PRANKS

I’m living in New York for six weeks doing training for my job that I’m going to be eventually working at in Los Angeles. It’s a global investment bank whose American headquarters are in NYC, and they’ve got all their incoming employees from around the globe here in the big apple doing training for the summer. I’d estimate there’s about 200 people in my training class, and we all have nametags that say our name, position, and city we’re working in. Each name tag also comes with a colored circular sticker that denotes the specific group that each person is working with. Everyone is extremely interested in what everyone else’s sticker color means, because they want to know everything about what other groups people were able to get into; I’ve overheard snippets of many conversations about the meaning of one color dot, or perhaps a dot split into two colors.

That said, I think it would be fucking hilarious to replace my dot with a gold sticker. Can you imagine the buzz that would create? “Have you guys seen the girl with the gold star sticker?? What do you think she’s working for??” If anyone asked me, I would either reply with “Mmm, can’t really talk about it” or “I’m going straight to a VP (vice president) position.” 

I’m cracking up just thinking about it

SOZ WILL BE SOZ

This is a good example of my stupid sense of humor and how normal human beings probably think I am a tool.  Background: this is an inter-office instant messaging conversation regarding a Taco Eating Challenge that took place at my company today; a certain employee named BBQ Bill was challenged to eat 25 Taco Bell $1.09 tacos within 45 minutes, and we were all betting on how many he could actually consume. SZ is me, and TT is a nice, sane, well-bred Texan boy:

TT: No way he can do it
SZ: Big boi
TT: Yea but 25 is too many.
SZ: Trevor, you gotta go all in
SZ: You have to put it all in to win in this life
SZ: 100%? That was never enough.
SZ: 110%? That’s no longer enough.
SZ: You want to know how much I put in everyday, Trevor?
SZ: I put in 200%. 200 fucking percent. And we’re about to find out just how much percentage BBQ Bill is willing to put in today. 

[No response from TT]

SZ: Sorry about that.
SZ: A football coach just came in and sat down at my desk.
SZ: I’m back now.

[Pause]

TT: Haha. Nice.  

(Note: BBQ Bill ate 17 and 1/3 tacos, in 45 minutes. No sour cream, just Tabasco.)