“Are you buying lunch, or am I?”
“Thanks. Oh! You also need to write me a check to replace the savings we used for car repairs. Wow…I sound like a gold-digger.”
“You are a gold-digger.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I am not!”
“Well, someday, you will be expensive, so someday you will be a gold-digger.”
“No I won’t, I’ll be a trophy wife. They aren’t the same thing at all.”
– C. and J.
“To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy not respectable, and wealthy not rich…this is my symphony.”
-William Ellery Channing
A worthy, worthy goal, my loves, but how is a girl supposed to resist the allure of the fabulousness we endured during our secretaries retreat today?
How can a secretaries retreat be fabulous you ask? I shall tell you.
First of all we went to the local ski town/get-a-way for many of the rich and famous. We were treated to an incredible suite in an amazing five-diamond winning lodge-style hotel, because the guy who is head of security there used to work for our police department and likes us. We were given the works! Valet parking, personally escorted to our rooms, a charming young man sent up to light a fire for us, lunch at the five-star restaurant on the house, and the grand tour of the premises. He pointed out the various celebrities homes on the neighboring mountain (many of which he’s run security on), walked us through where a certain un-named actress was recently married, took us through the rooms where a past president stayed, gave us several un-repeatable bits of gossip into the lives of some celebrities and dignitaries as he led us through the rooms they occupied, and also told us stories about the incredible lengths they go to in this place to preserve privacy
Sidenote – why oh WHY am I a secretary?! Why didn’t I go into protocol, start in the government and military circles that revolve around themselves in England and work my way up through the fabulous hotels of London, doing the obligatory stint in the Queen’s service of course, and finishing up in a place where interesting people whirl in and out and ask you for nothing but to keep their secrets? Whilst leaving five hundred dollar tips! My only recourse at the point is to somehow break into the world of writing and become one of those interesting people with secrets, I suppose.
Back to our tale! After being wined and dined, we spent two glorious hours attacking the local outlet stores that include everything from GAP to Coach! I justified buying myself a few things by buying even more things for other people, knocking a solid three family members off my Christmas-shopping list in an hour. Completely disregarding the fact that we are still paying off the four new tires currently cushioning my car. Christmas is coming, and there will be no goose to get fat because C. will have pawned it in desperation.
And believe it or not, we managed to have a lovely meeting in which frustrations were discussed, problems were solved, training was accomplished, and much needed venting got done. It was glorious.
“Why don’t the guys ever go on retreats like this?” asked Wise as we pulled out our folders, took notes, and stretched our feet luxuriously towards the fire.
“Because they don’t know how to do things properly,” I retorted. “Peasants.”