work.

I feel obligated to inform my readership that I took a new job recently, and that today was my first day of gainful employment, after nearly five full months. Prior to leaving for Bali, I'd spammed my resume out into cyberspace, no longer wishing to be coddled by family at their companies. Upon return, bearing severe suntan inappropriate for this time of year and at visual odds with a coat and scarf, I met with the employers who had showed interest. Getting a job in Shanghai, as an expat, is, in two words very easy. (I'm wholly unaccustomed to being courted for employment. Applying for corporate jobs in New York was an exercise in humility. For every lacuna in the ladder, there are a couple hundred clever and eager applicants, most of whom are better educated and more experienced than a)you, likely and b)me, certainly. And who knew that an English major was worth about as much as not having attended college at all? Not I, is who.)
In any case, there's a lot of employment in China, due in part to creativity and into the rather blithesome work ethic of its people. (For instance, purchase and rental apartments come fully furnished; the furniture industry booms. Nearly every family hires a housekeeper to cook and clean; wealthier families have one, two, three tutors for their children. After-school schools are quite popular in Asia as well.)

So I interviewed, donning my suit for the first time in almost a year, for a variegated pool of potential jobs. The most intiguing lead by far - chiefly on account of its hipness - was a job as an assistent for a crew of Dannish photographers and political journalists. The interview took place at a cafe outside their minimalist French Concession loft space, which resembled an Apple store. They sipped cappachinos and chain-smoked Dunhills; I timidly lit a Raison, and spoke passionately about my unwavering committment to the freedom of the press and Chinese politics. I didn't get the job.

When I interviewed at SinoLinks, it was in response to an inquiry for an executive assistant, but when I left, it was with an offer as a (gulp) analyst. The company, from my lesser-than-rudimentary understanding of finance, acts as the executive arm for a fledgling hedge fund in New York (New York!), sourcing opportunistic 1)corporate and 2)real estate investments because - and I extrapolate - they lack certain resources necessarily for investigating Asian corporations.

The notion of my working in high-yield asset management borders on the comical. I told Stephanie that I don't have the testosterone for this game, not to mention the knowledge or interest. The MD had promised that it would be interesting, though, and, given that I think my time would be better spent training for a marathon, learning the ocarina, memorizing the chapters of the Bible in order, anything, really - than resuming work in communications, I accepted the job.
The first day was not so bad. The office is quite nice, and my colleagues are six savvy and loquacious young women and one frequently absent MD. I have a rather generous monthly meal stipend and a nice view, and, like four new email addresses. I spent most of last night and this morning cramming investment (and thought, hey, investing sounds like a good deal!), and had lunch with a very sweet analyst named Flora, who was very eager to be friends. I suspect this is because she's a little annoying, but, since I am in no place to be choosy about pals, agreed to have dinner with her this week.