It's early in a new week and The Voice is bragging about her internship yet again. 'Yea, there's like all this beautiful furniture by my desk, and like...'
I zoned her out and looked at the other students who were listening to her, all of them green with envy, save one.
My friend.
I have three close friends here at Christeby's Institute, and each have decided that they have the characteristics of certain dogs. One would be a Cocker Spaniel, another would be an Afghan Hound, and lastly one would be a Golden Retriever.
I don't get a dog because apparently dogs don't have a sense of humour or sarcasm.
So my friend, the Golden Retriever, seems genuinely happy for The Voice while everyone else looks daggers at her.
If looks could kill, The Voice would have keeled over months ago.
Our tutors are away in New York interviewing next years students. A whole new group of thirsty, ambitious and somewhat unguided art world wannabes are being hand-selected while we sit around and listen to guest speakers.
A lot of people can't be bothered to come to the guest lecturer's classes. A lot of people are just hungover or half-asleep.
I wonder if the same thing will happen next year, or it it happened the year before. People this year have certainly become disillusioned with the auction house philosophy. Some want a more creative outlet, other want to get into museums, others, it's all about a gallery or dealership. But almost everyone started off wanting to work for Christeby's.
I bet it's the same with most classes.
'Yea, so, like my boss is like super cosmopolitan. It's like so amazing to watch him work. I'm like, totally in awe. It's like...'
Can't block her out forever. I definitely don't want to work with her later. My ears would start to bleed.
Fuck this shit. Golden Retriever, please, stop encouraging her!
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