Added to the usual joys of working for a Giant Corporation is the fact that mine is prone to using meaningless titles for all of it's employees, making it very difficult to discern the pecking order. It's not that I find terms like Vice President or General Manager particularly meaningful, mind you, but calling employees "Team Members" and "Team Leaders" and ""Coordinators" is annoying in some cases and borderline patronizing (not to mention disingenuous) in others.
Hilariously, I have been thinking for the past couple of months that one guy that I report to is the assistant of another woman I report to, when in fact it turns out that he is her boss. Fortunately I didn't completely embarrass myself, but I have certainly included him on e-mails that I never, ever would have bothered him with had I been aware.
My enthusiasm for the job waxes and wanes, and I can already tell that this holiday season is probably going to kill it completely. The great thing is that I am racking up (literally) a whole lot of free wine. I have several stored in the basement, and the makeshift rack I made in the dining room is overflowing. When I know I won't finish something I've opened, I leave it in the back hall for the neighbors, who also happen to be our landlords. They appreciate it very much.
I went to a fabulous wine dinner the other night at Gr@ham Elli0t Bistr0, courtesy of a winemaker from Oregon. The woman that I buy his wine from is one of my favorite reps, and I can't remember having more fun with strangers in a long time. The other buyers all begged off at the last minute, which was so rude that I was embarrassed about it even though I didn't know any of them. When we arrived, the sommelier asked me what I wanted to start with and I told him to surprise me with any white he would like, so long as it wasn't an oaky California Chardonnay. He was pleased at that answer and poured me a very generous glass of something French that I had never heard of and therefore can't remember. When we sat down, The Winemaker ordered a bottle of white Burgundy for the table. I asked A, my sales rep, to help me out with my first glass since I had to drive. She gulped half of it obligingly. We giggled. The Burgundy was outstanding. I left myself in their hands for ordering, asking only that they get a few vegetarian options so I could soak up enough wine to stay sober. The food was remarkable, conversation flowed easily, and I kept wishing that there was somewhere I could dump my car legally so I could stay late, drink lots, and take a cab home. Instead I skipped the oaked Burgundy after just a sip, brushed off the Pinot Noir (which I have tasted plenty of times and already carry in my store), and focused on the Pinot Blanc, which was not only delicious but also conveniently low in alcohol. After dinner the others all had aperitifs. I tasted each of them while judiciously opting for water. I slept like a corpse and went back to work hating my job slightly less on Tuesday.

I cannot fathom why I am awake right now, unless there is a full (or nearly full) moon out there above the thick rain clouds. I was nearly asleep on my feet at work, came home and had a fabulous glass of Vaqueyras while reading the day's news, then took a hot shower and turned in. The b.h. Is sound asleep, which is a good thing since he will be getting up for work on three hours, and I have been laying here listening to Derek Jacoby read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes for hours.
I've made plays on all of my Scranble games, caught up on Twitter, Facebook, and blogs (yes, I'm still reading despite near total radio silence on my end), and I just can't fall asleep. If we didn't live above our landlords, I would be sweeping and mopping the whole house right now, since that was my plan for the morning that I will most likely sleep through now. This is so dumb.