Page 29 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
I was a month into my “Love on Wall Street” column. I’d written four articles, each depicting the same thing: the introduction of a carbon copy of a man I’d written about the previous week, a date with stale conversation that fizzled out or was interrupted before we could discuss a second date.
The only saving grace of this series was how so many women had found the material relatable, adding their own personal accounts of their run-ins with the men of Wall Street. But with every failed date—every interruption from James Rossi—I was seeing the chances of obtaining the magazine’s restaurant critic role slowly slip away. That feeling only compounded when I sat down at my desk on Monday morning and opened my company inbox to see an email from Anthea sitting right at the top.
SUBJECT: YOU SEEM INCAPABLE OF SECURING AN ACTUAL DATE
The entire body of the email was blank. There was only the subject line glaring back at me. Anthea’s taunting email in my coffin of self-doubt. My stomach clenched with dread; the weight of missed opportunities presseddown on me, leaving me with only one last desperate gamble.
Hallie:
Want to go to Whiskey Locker tonight? Operation “Get Hallie a Date” needs to begin.
Roxie:
I think I may skip out on tonight. I’m tired of gracing those Wall Street men with my presence when they don’t know the opportunity they have at their fingertips.
Roxie:
But you’ve got this. I have a good feeling about tonight!
