What's Up With You, Nice Hedge Fund?

Something is amiss here at Nice Hedge Fund.

I don’t know what’s going on. I never really know what’s going on here – I don’t even know what a hedge fund does, per se. Sure, I hear Loud Guy discussing the sale of luxury goods when he isn’t bitching to his (ex)girlfriend, and JDate is always meeting with telecom analysts, but that is the extent of my understanding of How We Make Money. There is a pervading atmosphere of unrest on the Executive Floor this week: a lot of out-of-office or behind-closed-doors meetings, a lot of please-stop-by-my-office requests. Last time they had shadeball meetings like this it was my first week and Easier had just decided that he didn’t want to come in to the office for a few months. I’m determined to get to the bottom of this. And while I’m at it, I’m determined to find out why Nice Hedge Fund insists on setting the thermostat to 55 degrees. My lips are blue and I have goosebumps and I’m wearing a turtleneck sweater with C’s jacket. People keep walking by and asking if I’m cold, then offering to switch desks because apparently everyone else is sweltering.

Really, my whole body chemistry is off this week. The weather is changing, I haven’t been working out or drinking heavily lately, and I’ve actually had to be half-cognizant during the working hours since Labor Day. I’ll get a break tomorrow and Friday because Easy and JDate will be out for the High Holy Days (duh). Hello, long lunch and leaving early!

Breaking News: Loud Guy is, at this very moment, on the phone with a girl he met last night and asking her out. Poorly, I might add, but he seems to be having some vague success. She’s French, which is perhaps her only excuse for this terrible lapse in judgment. Loud Guy, that sputtering, red-faced fool, didn’t have a place or time or even day picked out to suggest, so the actual date-planning process will now required several emails and phone calls per his MO. Instead of making tangible plans, he gave her every possible mode of contact (work phone, cell phone, work email, personal email), nailed down her complete work schedule for the rest of the week, and promised to brainstorm “fun places on the Upper West Side” where they can go. Oh, swoon.

Holy cow! Loud Guy just turned to me and C and said, “Am I the most entertaining soap opera in this office?” Holding in my laughter was the greatest test of willpower yet, and she and I haven’t been able to make eye contact since. He’s giving us intimate details about his now-over relationship that we have already gleaned from his boisterous conversations! We're advising him for his date! What’s happening here? He’s breaking the third wall! ACK!