It was only a dream...

But apparently, Ma Nature didn't get the memo. Today was a miserable mix of rain, sleet, and snow that made it feel like early February.

Oddly enough, though, it wasn't terribly cold. It hovered in the mid-30's all day, and was therefore tolerable.

I had meetings downtown all day with my boss' new boss, who was in from headquarters to get to know us a bit. Admirable on the surface, but really more of a disaster-containment plan if you look closely at it. With the latest reduction in force and the dangerously low morale, I think she felt she had to do something to make it look as if someone cared.

All in all I liked her, and think she will do well if given the chance.

About 4:30, she stepped into the office I had usurped for the afternoon. "I wanted to have some one-on-one time with a few people, and you were at the top of my list. Is there somewhere we can go talk?" she asked.

"Sure. There's a bar downstairs," I said with a chuckle.

Surprisingly, she bit immediately. We grabbed our things and headed to the elevator.

We spoke of what is happening across the company, what needs to happen in order to make things better, and how success should be measured. I liked that. Quantitative analysis is something we could use right about now. I was a bit shocked, however, at the last question she asked as we were getting ready to head to dinner.

"So why are you still here?"

I raised the bottle to my lips to buy a moment of thought. I looked at her earnestly and inquired, "Interesting question. Why do you ask?"

"You've been labeled an at-risk employee. When top performers fall into that category, we worry."

I laughed. "Is that because I have more seniority than anyone else, I'm sitting a level below my team-mates on two different scales, and am paid $25,000 less than the market is offering?"

She didn't laugh along. "What makes you say the market is paying that much more than you're making?"

"That's what the six head-hunters that have called me in the last three weeks have been offering," I said bluntly. "Look, I know I'm a young female, and have come up through the ranks. I know this company doesn't like to promote people, and we have the reputation for not paying anyone what they're worth. But I'm not stupid."

She smiled. "I'm realizing that. I can't promise you anything, but I'll do what I can to fix that over the next few years. So I'll ask again. Why are you still here?"

My answer was simple. "Loyalty. I love my clients, and I love working for C. It's been enough to keep me here so far." I didn't extrapolate on the other ventures I'm currently pursuing.

She nodded, and we headed out to meet the rest of the group. We all walked through the snow and rain to the restaurant, where I pulled my hair back into a sodden clip and ordered a French martini. I didn't say much as we ate, knowing that I'd already said enough. She watched me, though. As did C, my boss. I have a feeling there will be more conversation tomorrow on the topic.

I made my excuses shortly after six, claiming I wanted to make the 6:30 train home. Crossing the river to the station, I stopped to gather my thoughts. I was moderately intoxicated. The snow felt cool as it hit my face, and I stood on the bridge for a moment to enjoy it.

Standing in front of the train station was what we refer to as "A Rolex in a $1,000 suit". He was smoking a cigarette. I wanted one.

I walked up to him, smiled sweetly, and asked, "Hey, I don't suppose you would care to loan a girl a smoke?" I tilted my head, batted my lashes, and grinned up at him.

It worked. "You mean I can have it back when you are done?" he asked. "Then it's a deal. If you let me buy you a drink."

I laughed. "Okay, but I have a 6:30 train to catch. We'd better drink fast."

I savored that cigarette like it was the last on earth. For some reason, alcohol makes them taste like heaven. I can't explain why.

He helped me with the door, and we took the escalator up to the second floor. In the bar, he ordered two Coronas without even asking what I wanted. I smiled. "And what if I wanted hard liquor?"

"Then you'll have to stick around for another drink," he said. I was tipsy, but I wasn't about to have drink number four in a train station with a stranger. I laughed him off and flirted my way through the beer.

When I looked at my watch, it was past seven. "You are an evil, terrible man. You made me miss my train!" I admonished. I was full-blown drunk, and he knew it.

"Then stay for one more. You can have your hard liquor." He winked.

"I don't think so, but thank you. You're very kind." I realized that I didn't even know his name. Neither had I told him mine.

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. "Here is my card. Give me a call some time, huh?"

I took the card, and put it in my pocket. "Thank you. Have a safe trip home, and don't melt in the snow!"

I did not give him my card. I did not even shake his hand. I turned on my heel with a smile, and walked out the door.

Careful not to waver, I made my way to the revolving door that leads to the tracks. I stepped through, located the nearest trash can, and pulled his card out of my pocket. Without even looking at it, I dropped it in.

I got on the (7:30) train, made a few quick phone calls, and closed my eyes. By the time I woke up ten minutes from home, I was disappointingly sober. I checked my pocket just to make sure the card was gone, and gathered my belongings as the nice conductor told me to over the intercom.

The last thing I need is to start collecting rolexes...but it's nice to know that I could if I wanted to.

And for some reason, I find myself savoring the label at-risk. It's exciting. It's dangerous. And it's about time.