Morley McBride - The One of a Kind

 

So, I moved west to California, fresh out of college with grand dreams of launching my creative career. I felt super lucky when I landed my first job as a receptionist at a big advertising firm. I'd never had a corporate job before. I had to look up what business casual meant on the Internet. And I was so relieved to see closed toed shoes because I was like I have a lot of those. My Dr. Martens, my sneakers, my hiking boots. [audience laughter] So, despite a terribly inappropriate Wardrobe, I tried my best to fit into this new office culture. I answered phones, I made coffee, I helped people falsify their expense reports. [audience laughter] I was basically responsible for anything and everything that no one else in the office wanted to do and I hated it. It was sort of soul crushing. 

Things went from bad to worse, when as a cost cutting measure, the firm fired their travel agency. They were like we'll just get the receptionist to book our travel. This is pre kayak, mind you. [audience laughter] So now, in between answering the phones, I'm on the phone, all day, negotiating with airlines and managing the travel itineraries of a really busy office of executives. And booking travel is not my forte for multiple reasons. First, I was raised in a super thrifty New England family, so I hate spending money. Even if it's not mine, it still stresses me out. And second, I'm a Libra, so I consider every option there is and still can't make a decision. [audience laughter] I ponder which end of the Q-tip to use when I get out of the shower. [audience laughter] 

So, needless to say, this job becomes a daily nightmare of anxiety and stress for me. And as a receptionist, there's really no place for that. You're trapped by this huge desk where everyone can always see you and you're contractually obligated to smile. So, on the surface, I'm pretending everything's fine, but underneath my professional pleasantries, a real storm is brewing. Soon, this job, the stress of it, begins to affect my personal life. I find I don't want to go out with my friends anymore for fear that they'll ask me about my work. So, to ease the pain, I come home one night and I make this iron on T-shirt that just says, “I am not a travel agent.” And I begin to put it on every day when I come home from work just to remind myself and feel a bit better. [audience laughter] My routine was to come home, put my bag down, put that shirt on, grab a beer, sit on the couch. It was like a warped version of an opening scene from a Mr. Rogers episode. [audience laughter] 

 

My only happy time during the workday was lunchtime, when I would splurge at the bodega next door on my favorite, and ice-cold Diet Coke. I've basically-- of all the world's vices, Diet Coke is mine. I've been addicted to it since childhood because both my parents drank it. And I don't know if you know any Diet Coke fanatics, but it's not a negotiable choice, there's no substitute, we're very loyal people. So, I'm sitting at that receptionist desk, eating my lunch, enjoying a Diet Coke, savoring the sweet aspartame fizz of it, when I get called into one of partners offices. I walk in, and there's sort of this Don Draper-esque character sitting at the desk across from me. He's the kind of partner that calls you “Hon,” and only flies in direct flight business class aisle seats. He says to me, “Hon, we need to talk about your drinking problem. You know you can't be drinking a Diet Coke up at that desk.” Now, this would be a good time to mention that this firm's biggest client is Pepsi, and it has been for 40 years. There's Pepsi products all over this office. 

 

As a receptionist, I actually have the key to the soda machine so that I can let the Pepsi man come and restock it every week. But let's get back to my drinking problem, because this job has taken my pride, my sanity, my will to socialize. Remember, I'm going home every night to a DIY therapy session with a T-shirt. [audience laughter] And now it's after my one moment of joy, it's asking me to betray my roots and feign an alliance and an allegiance with the other, [audience chuckle] the enemy, Pepsi. I realize this charade has gone on way too far. I have to draw the line somewhere. So, I smile and nod to Don Draper, and I tell him I totally understand his concerns. And from that day on, I continue to drink my daily Diet Coke, but now with a post it notes wrapped around it that says in clear block letters, Pepsi. [audience laughter] 

 

You'd think that move would have tipped them off that something else was lurking underneath my smiles and nods. [audience laughter] But for whatever reason, it didn't. But I was motivated. So soon after, I found a new job. And on my last day at that firm, I went in early before anyone else. And on my way in, I bought a Diet Coke. But this time, I bought a full case of it. And in the early morning light, I used that key to open up the Pepsi machine [audience laughter] and sprinkle Diet Coke cans randomly but strategically throughout every selection, the Pepsi’s, the Diet Pepsi’s, the Mountain Dew’s. 

So, although I never felt home at that job, I mean, it was really a terrible fit. I feel like the way I left it was just right for me. [audience chuckle] My new job brought me out to Colorado and a few weeks later, sitting at my desk overlooking the mountains, I received an email from an old co-worker. And he wrote me to tell me that the temp they'd hired, after I left had, randomly grabbed a bunch of sodas from that Pepsi machine for an important client meeting, [audience laughter] and that the whole creative team had sat silent throughout the meeting, just distracted and dumbfounded by this lone Diet Coke can on the conference table [audience laughter] amongst a sea of Pepsis. Thank you.