the norwegian and how-once upon a time-i wanted his shoes for my own

i met andreas the first time during a career crossroad 1.5 years ago.

how do i start describing the guy? he was just amazing at work. he was so fucking good with what he does he made me uncomfortable. i told him so. for a good five minutes he was being sheepish. “how do i make you uncomfortable?”

“you just do it so naturally at the board room. its your expression. you’re making me rethink if i really am that good. and i am fucking good. and i don’t like to start thinking otherwise.” i told him. i remember bjorn chuckled when i said that; the three of us were having dinner at the fort then. “anyway, i just thought i would tell you that. it is not such a bad thing.”

“it is a bad thing.” he said, in his norwegian accent. “i cannot afford to make you uncomfortable. you have to be comfortable with me so i can get as much information out from you so we can clean out this mess.”

when i met him again last saturday for pre-dinner drinks at the TSB (which is this cool resto at Bangsar Area in Kuala Lumpur), he was what i remembered he was when i met him. “i am moving back to netherlands in three weeks for a new post.” he said and told me what the post was when i asked.

“bastard.” i murmured and drained my margaritas quickly. “you get all the right breaks!” i told him as i ordered another glass.

“and you’ve been shopping for shoes.” he commented with a grin, noticing the shopping bags.

people like andreas, 30-year old men like andreas, make you wonder what you want to do with your career. i have seen him work and wanted his shoes for my own(didn’t know what i was thinking but you know how screwed up the priorities are of a workaholic and i was one). the challenge. the travel. the decisions. ahhhh, the steroids of my life.

“so, you think you’re ready for the post?” i asked him.

“i know my way with finance.” he replied. “and how is your job?”

after the drinks, we had dinner at an arabian restaurant at StarHill which doesn’t serve alcohol in their menu but allows you to order one (i told Andreas i find it quite ironic. you either serve it or you don’t). we talk about our jobs, relationships, and bars. we drank margaritas, cosmopolitan, vodka, and beer. we both smirked at the traffic around the city center even during midnight. we looked at the Petronas Towers from the famous Skybar and agreed it is the most beautiful sight ever.

Andreas and i, we are nowhere near being friends. our time working together was so short it is actually not correct that i should refer to him as a colleague. but i do agree with him when he said there was none of those awkward stuff people often suffer from whenever they catch up with people they haven’t seen for a while. and believe me, i experienced that even with friends.

“thank you for the lovely night.” he said as we do the traditional goodbye kiss on the cheek. “and have a safe flight back on Monday.”

“the pleasure is shared. good luck with the new assignment.” i told him.

nothing of those “let’s keep in touch” or “catch up with you again” sort of speeches that most people who met on crossroads say to each other but rarely do anyway. andreas and i, we don’t need to bullshit each other. we are just too smart for that.

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