it started, and then it ended so quickly

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Today is the second and really, last full day of this trip. I spent time time in the spa, ate a quick lunch, went out to the mountains with four others for horseback riding, and came back to lounge by the pool before our Cinco de Mayo themed group dinner. I had this great plan of reading for about an hour and a half at the pool before getting ready for dinner, but colleagues kept running into me at the pool and stopping me to chat. That sounds really anti-social of me, but I was really hoping to get this reading done.

“You know you’re here for President’s Club to socialize with everyone here, right?” my close colleague said.

Yeah, sort of. But if I brought Chris as a plus-one, I’d probably be doing less of the type of socializing I’ve been doing.

We had our dinner altogether as a group, and while it was delicious, as it started coming to a close, the amount of white male testosterone that filled the air made be a bit nauseated. I get along well with all the CSMs and sales engineers, even the sales guys from Europe, and certain spouses/plus-ones who came. But I’ve always been turned off by the white bro culture that comes out when the sales guys are all around each other. There’s just something about the way they act with each other that just reminds me of frats, and it really disgusts me. As soon as all the banter began after the multiple margaritas, I knew I had to bolt.

I’m grateful for my time here at this beautiful resort, my spa treatments and spa time, and the time to chat with my favorite SF colleagues and EMEA counterparts. But I really do not want to increase my time socializing with entitled white male sales bros. This culture needs to change, but it won’t anytime soon sadly.

First full day of resort vacation, then pain

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Last night when I went to bed, I discovered that the pillows on the bed were extremely soft, but given I was already nestled in, I was too lazy to call room service to ask for a firmer pillow and made the huge mistake of going to sleep with these. I then woke up this morning to the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my neck all the way down my right shoulder. I kept stretching and massaging it every which way, and nothing would help. Why am I starting the first day of my President’s Club resort vacation in pain? This must be bad karma, I thought.

Despite that, I woke up early, stretched, went to the fitness club and did a spin and TRX class, then met some colleagues on my team for breakfast. I kept stretching my neck, and although they knew I had booked a facial around noon, they encouraged me to also book a massage, as well, to get the kinks out of me. So after some steaming, sauna, jacuzzi, and facial time, I decided to indulge even further and book a deep-tissue massage with hot stones.

As I got into the room, I told the masseuse about the bad pillow and my neck/shoulder issue. He felt the area and started working on it. “Actually, you seem really tense overall in this area,” he observed. “You may already have had something here before the bad pillow, and that ended up being the icing on the cake.”

Great – all this tension built up in my body, and it culminates in pain on the first day of my only real resort vacation ever. This is just great luck.

The other added benefit of getting the massage was that he also identified the kinks in my lower back that were a side effect of hurting my piriformis muscle weeks ago, and he managed to get them all out. This was the most expensive massage I’ve ever had in my life, but it was all worth it in the end… especially since it was mostly comped by my company.

Now, I’m wondering if I could make President’s Club again this year. 😀

Ritz-Carlton Bacara

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After two connecting flights and a short Uber ride, I arrived at the Ritz-Carlton Bacara in Santa Barbara this late afternoon. It felt oddly familiar given that Chris and I had visited this property just four years ago as a potential wedding venue. It certainly is a luxurious resort with beautifully manicured lawns, roses, and bougainvillea, multiple pools, an extremely extensive spa and fitness club, and the beautiful Spanish tiling and architecture. I walked around the different areas where Chris and I checked out that had ocean and pool views and admired the coastal walk trail along the beach. This is definitely a nice getaway place.

While most people went out to downtown Santa Barbara to drink and party, I ended up going back to my room to read, do my video editing course, and sleep early to get ready for a day tomorrow of fitness classes, spa treatments, and relaxing. I felt my inner introvert come out when I declined going out with the crowd. My desire to socialize with a bunch of sales people is definitely not high. In general, I’ve never really gotten along well with sales because for the most part, to do well in sales, you have to be selfish with a high sense of self-orientation, and those personality types never do well with me. So this President’s Club weekend, while mostly a treat, is also a bit of a downer for me because it means I have to spend time with these people. And unsurprisingly, I spent most of the welcome reception socializing with other customer success managers and sales engineers.

Resort trip ready

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I’m getting ready for my President’s Club trip starting tomorrow, and it seems odd to say this, but I’m not sure what to think of it. When Chris and I travel, we never do resort vacations where we lounge by a pool or on a beach; we’re constantly out and about, trying new restaurants, seeing different sights, going down random alleyways and finding interesting bars, nooks and crannies. With this trip, I’ll mostly be on the resort property, and so it’s a strange departure from my version of “normal” travel.

In preparation, since I’m not sure how much downtime I will have given I’ll be around colleagues on and off, I downloaded two books, have a third book on a Kindle, and have a video editing course to do online. I know I’m supposed to be at President’s Club to socialize with my colleagues, but outside of maybe three or four of them, I want to minimize my time with colleagues outside of the group welcome reception, dinner, and shared activities. If this feels too much like work, it won’t be a real vacation.

Tacos are not enchiladas

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I had my usual bi-weekly team meeting from 5-6pm tonight, which means that Chris gets upset, as that means he has to eat dinner later. In his ideal world, my husband would like to eat dinner at 5 or 5:30. If my last meeting ends at 6, the earliest I’d be able to get home is 6:30, which means his stomach ends up grumbling and he gets grumpy.

I usually fix dinner for us, even if it’s just leftovers, since I’m a bit of a control freak, and I want to make sure that certain things are served the right way. If we’re having my chicken enchiladas with mole, for example, that means making sure each one is rolled with chicken, mole, cheese, and cilantro on the inside, then topped with more mole, cheese, and some avocado. But since I would be getting home later tonight, I told Chris he was in charge of fixing up dinner.

When I got home, the enchiladas were not rolled. Instead, they were presented on the plates as tacos fully open. “Hey, these aren’t enchiladas. These are tacos. You have to roll them!” I exclaimed.

“It’s all the same shit!” Chris indignantly said. “It’s a bunch of stuff in a tortilla!”

Uh-huh. Sure it is.

Bendy tripod switch at B&H

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My heavy Sony zoom lens was weighing down my 3K Gorilla tripod, so I had to go back to B&H today to get a longer bendy tripod that could accommodate more weight. I went back to the store to get a heavier tripod, and I insisted that it still have the same bendy, flexible legs that my original one had. The salesperson didn’t seem to hear me say this and insisted that I get a rigid tripod that couldn’t extend as long. It was such a weird experience since my previous three visits to B&H were amazing; everyone was super helpful and friendly, and I always felt heard. This guy was clearly not listening to me when I said I wanted a taller tripod with bendy legs. The key words in that statement are “taller” and “bendy.” In the end, I got the 5K tripod that could accommodate up to 11 pounds and exchanged for this.

I received a B&H survey, which asked me for my overall customer satisfaction. For the most part, I gave extremely glowing reviews, but I did note that customer service was not fully consistent, as this last tripod experience was a bit spotty and I didn’t feel heard. They immediately followed up via email to ask me to provide more details so that they could ensure more consistent and great customer experience.

B&H is pretty amazing. They do pretty much every single thing right, from customer service to friendliness to speed of checkout to even price matching with Amazon. I almost feel lucky I’ve been able to shop there and have these experiences, and I never say that for in-store experiences anywhere and almost always rather buy online!

DiFara pizza-making class

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What is arguably the best and most famous pizza in New York City has very recently decided to start pizza making classes at its old shop in Midwood, Brooklyn. The new manager of my team decided to do a team event here tonight, so I got to benefit from these classes. While it’s not a traditional cooking class in that you do not actually make the pizza dough, the tomato sauce, etc., from scratch, what you do get is to try one slice each of their signature slices, then shape your own dough into a pizza round/oblong, add your own seasoned tomato sauce (San Marzano tomatoes, no less) to the dough, then top with mozzarella, parmesan, and olive oil.

The DiFara pizza is noticeably different than other NYC pizza slices: the crust is thinner and crunchier, the tomato sauce is a bit more balanced between sweet and tangy, and the topping of parmesan and olive oil as a finish is always just right to add the last bit of savory and salty. I would not say it is my favorite pizza, as that would be a hard call to make, but it is definitely delicious and noteworthy, even without the original owner making every single pizza the way he always wanted. That just wasn’t scalable for his level of demand.

I enjoyed every bite of the pizzas, even the slice of the pizza I made where I tried a bite out of it right out of the oven. At 600 degrees F, I burned the roof of my mouth and left the place with tender and sore gums, but it was all worth it in the end. These are the moments I am so grateful to not have a gluten allergy.

And during the class, they closed DiFara’s. We noticed four guys knock on the door, and they begged and pleaded to let them buy two full pies, as they traveled all the way from London just to try this famous pizza. After some back and forth that probably lasted a few minutes, the workers relented and let them in. They freshly shaped and made the pies, stuck them in the oven, and the Brits paid and left happily with their hot and steamy fresh pies.

As I walked out, I noticed that even though DiFara’s says they are cash-only, they actually did have a credit-card machine that the Brits used to pay. And they also left the receipt on the counter… which showed that they tipped these guys over 50 percent.

Mole making

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Cooking authentic mole takes time. For those uninitiated, mole is a popular sauce in Mexican cuisine. Oftentimes, each restaurant, family, grandma, and mother has their own version of mole. It varies by region and by town. But the unifying ingredients in all of them include a combination of Mexican spices, such as oregano and canela (Mexican cinnamon), aromatics such as charred onions and garlic, Mexican chocolate, and the most pungent and fun ingredients: dried Mexican chilies. The end result is a mix of chocolate, spices, chilies… a very complex tasting dish that is hard to liken to anything else I’ve ever tasted or made. Some moles have 20-30 different ingredients and can take days and days to make! And the longer it sits on the stove cooking, the more and more the flavors meld together and become even more complex and delicious.

I’ve made mole twice, both times in cooking classes in Oaxaca. The first time was in 2010 during my first trip, and the second time was this past trip in May 2018 with Chris. Today was my first time attempting mole at home, albeit a more simplified, home-friendly version.

Today, we used dried ancho and guajillo chilies that we brought back from our Mexico trip last year for a simplified red mole. I also ground up the canela I purchased whole from a market in Mexico City. I used a teaspoon of the Mexican oregano I purchased, as well; Chris noticed that the smell was far more pungent than the dried oregano we buy here. It took about 2-3 hours including the time to film the cooking, but in the end, after adding some additional shaved Mexican chocolate and a touch of sugar, it tasted rich, well-rounded, and smoky.

I knew that I’d use it as the base sauce for the chicken enchiladas I wanted to make to use up old corn and cassava tortillas in the freezer, but I didn’t realize how special it would taste when all the components were put together until I ate them today. Filled and topped with a vibrant red mole, chicken, cilantro, and cheese, these enchiladas were lick-your-plate worthy and definitely tasted authentic. I actually impressed myself with this dish.

Fuzzy navel

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There exists a cocktail that is called the fuzzy navel. It’s a mixed drink made from peach schnapps and orange juice. Depending on the drinker’s taste, it could even have a stash of vodka or some added lemonade.

I’ve actually never had this cocktail myself, but I thought about it this morning when I woke up from the oddest stream of dreams. In the first dream, my mom is accusing of doing something I know I didn’t do (well, I guess that’s just a sad flashback to my years of living and being slightly mentally tortured at home). But in the second dream I can recall, Chris is telling me that my stomach is hairy and that I should consider waxing it. I have visible hair on my stomach? I thought. I have a fuzzy navel…? What happened to me overnight that this could be possible?

Signs that you are thinking about work too much

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When you start having dreams about your colleagues, that’s when you know that you either spend too much time at work or are thinking too much about work.

Last night, I dreamt that a colleague of mine, who is known for not being particularly social or interested in getting to know the rest of us, was actually a prolific Impressionist-style painter who painted endlessly every evening after work. She works at my company by day, but at night, she is either painting or selling her work at a gallery downtown.

In real life, I know this couldn’t be further from the truth, but perhaps this serves the point that not everyone is exactly who they seem to be at the office.