Pinecones over
People
Beware of people who seek constant
crowds, they are nothing alone.
Chapter 7: The Girl Who was No!ing
Like Cindere"a
October 25, 2023
W
ell, much unlike her name, Cinderella
wasn't your typical "damsel in
distress." She wasn't twiddling her thumbs,
dreaming of a knight in a shining Armani suit.
Nope, she had more of a Snow White's evil
stepmother vibe going on – the kind that could
freeze your coffee with just a glance. That's the
image she liked to project; you see. The icy,
unfeeling sorceress type. She was a force to be
reckoned with, strong-willed and a pro at
defying all odds. She didn't conform to society's
humdrum expectations, and she wouldn't have it
any other way.
I know we always just talk about me, more like
me ranting, you listening. But today let me tell
you story. A story about a girl named Cinderella,
or Cindy as her friends liked to call her. Or as
her Waze navigation app liked to call her, "Lost
Princess Cindy." She was a girl of wit, wild
dreams, and a knack for comically confusing
her corporate comrades. Let's dive headfirst into
the tempestuous whirlwind that is her utterly
bewildering existence.
Life, as it turns out, was more like a game of
Twister than a neatly organized board game for
Cindy. Each day was a perplexing puzzle, and
she couldn't help but feel like she was just a
pawn in the grand scheme of things. In the
corporate realm, Cindy engaged in a daily battle
of wits, armed with her trusty master's degree –
a fancy piece of paper that she was ever so
grateful for, not because it made her brilliant but
because it was her golden ticket to a neverending game of charades. She often found
herself nodding and smiling in conversations
with folks whose names could easily be
replaced with 'Hey you.'
Cindy had mastered the fine art of pretending to
be passionately interested in the weather, office
politics, and the ceaseless quest to uncover the
ultimate takeout spot within a five-mile radius.
She played pretend so brilliantly at times that
she almost tricked herself into thinking she was
destined to be that ambitious, ruthless genius
who could set the entire corporate world ablaze
with her sheer brilliance. She even entertained
daydreams where Goldman Sachs and JP
Morgan would engage in an all-out poaching
war for the privilege of having her on their team.
A flight of fancy, indeed!
Anyway one fine fine night, Cindy while enjoying with
her friends during a slumber party where everyone but
her was drunk, but honestly all the drunk gals were still
way more sensible and seemed sober than the
teetotaler Cindy. Because even her friends agreed that
she was crazy enough when she was stone-cold
sober. Amidst the giggles and gossips, Cindy
decided to make a pact. She swore that if her
life wasn't steering toward something more
meaningful, like making a genuine impact or
championing noble causes, she'd bid adieu to
her corporate job. That job, let's face it, was like
her very own set of Cinderella's wicked
stepmother and stepsisters. But, oh boy, the
mere thought of being broke – even just for a
month – was scarier to her than the prospect of
helping billionaires rake in a few extra million,
even if it meant leaving poor folks and the
environment in the lurch.
And then came the dreaded annual Christmas
ball her firm hosted, a glittering soirée of forced
holiday cheer, where everyone looked like they
were auditioning for the role of "Business
Person #273." How many shades of black and blue
can one's wardrobe hold, anyway? But, truth be told,
she saw that coming from a mile away. Cindy, brave
and audacious as ever, strutted in wearing a hot pink
skirt and zebra-print Manolas. Someone had to inject a
bit of color into these folks' lives, right?
But as she strolled through the crowd, she saw
the perplexed expressions on their faces, and
the thought crossed her mind that maybe her
sartorial choices weren't the best idea.
"Cindy, glad you could make it," someone said,
and she nearly choked on her drink.
It was the head honcho, the frown-wearing
financial genius from a bank she adored more
than most humans (I mean, let's be real, it's
Goldman Sachs we're talking about). He always
looked at her as if he could see right through
her, as if he possessed the power to read
minds. He probably knew that when she nodded
at a boring chart, she was secretly daydreaming
about hiking in the Alps or plotting how to sneak
a snack past the conference catering. The
man's a mind-reading mastermind and he
probably knew Cindy was a fraud!
Anyway, she sees an opening and quickly runs away
for her life. And just when she thought her night
couldn't get any more peculiar, her dear friend
and colleague, Alex, asked her for a dance.
Nush's dance moves were a spectacle, a cross
between a head-bobbing chicken and an
enthusiastic but clumsy penguin. But she
agreed, thinking it would be a charitable act to
help enhance Alex's grace.
As they twirled on the dance floor, Nush
embarked on her debut waltz, with moves so
unorthodox that even the experienced dancers
were left scratching their heads. She was
dancing to a different tune altogether. Her
dancing career came to a screeching halt as
she simultaneously stomped on Alex's toes,
tripped over her own feet, and executed a
gravity-defying stumble. The whole ordeal
resembled a classic slapstick comedy, with
Nush as the star and Alex as the brave co-star
who bore the brunt of her graceless maneuvers.
To top it all off, Nush knew she was leaving her
job in a week, so she thought, "Why not exit
with a bang?" Literally. Her farewell
performance added an unexpected twist to the
evening's festivities, turning it into her very own
rendition of the Cinderella with Alex as the
bravest dance partner in office history. Her
cheeks still flush with embarrassment when I think
back to that night.
Anyhow, beneath this seemingly put-together exterior
that waltzes through christmas parties is a soul who
can't even navigate her way through a shopping mall
without accidentally starting a flash mob in the wrong
department. I once got so lost in the mall that they had
to send in search and rescue teams. Okay, not really,
but I wouldn't have been surprised if they did. And let's
not even get started on my attempts at cooking – I
once burned a salad. Yes, you heard that right.
Burned. A. Salad. If there's ever a competition for
culinary mishaps, I'm pretty sure I'd be a front-runner.
Beyond her corporate façade, Nush was a free
spirit yearning to break the chains of societal
expectations. She tasted freedom when she left
the nest for the first time, and it was as
exhilarating as the last slice of pizza in the
world. Now, I'm the person who trips over her
own shoelaces in the race to be unconventional.
Life's most exciting moments happened when
she dared to step outside the lines and embrace
her unique shape, even if it was more hexagon
than circle. She viewed societal norms as a todo list for a particularly dull party, and she'd
been known to break a rule or two, just to spite
conformity.
Freedom was her intoxication, and she saw it as
a roller coaster ride on a cosmic rainbow. It's the
freedom to be unabashedly me, to forge a path that's
as unique as my dance moves (which are, let's be
honest, unique for all the wrong reasons). It was the
power to make decisions unburdened by
society's judgment and to waltz into the
unknown like a butterfly on an adventure.
Anyway, much like the ball in the original
Cinderella story, Cindy left her zebra-print
stiletoes behind as a reminder of her rebellious
and unconventional nature to her dear friends
and colleagues. As for the prince, ha! Cindy had
other plans in life. She couldn't even possibly
fancy a prince in shining black/blue suit or one
that came with a corporate facade.
After the ball, Nush took a teeny-tiny detour to
Harrods because they still had the Boxing Day
sale on. Now, she sat in her apartment,
pondering the mysteries of human existence.
People often tell her not to overthink, but she can't help
but think that they should think more. She thinks, she
observes, and she remembers not just what people
say but also how they blink while saying it. She
observes the slightest of change in tone, conversation,
expressions and interest and take that shit to heart.
This is her superpower and she'll never feel bad about
it.
Cindy was the master of her own epic tale. No
evil stepmother or stepsisters ever dared to
tether her spirit. She didn't just leave the prince
on the dance floor; she waved him goodbye
with a sassy twirl. As for the townsfolk, oh, they
were in for a treat! They couldn't help but chat,
speculate, and offer unsolicited advice and
opinions as Cindy sauntered away. It was like
leaving a plate of hot gossip soup right on their
doorstep.
And here's the kicker, folks: the townspeople
are still there, doing their thing, trying to find
someone else to scrutinize and judge, while
Cindy? Well, she's been out there, moving
mountains and leaving a trail of stardust in her
wake. She proved that sometimes, it's better to
let the gossipmongers do their thing, while you
go out and conquer the world.
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