|sent from: London, UK. destination: Los Angeles, California, USA|
“Why are you sensitive about the Americans?“, asked Amy. “Are you a Yank or something?“
“Yes, I’m American.”
“Well you don’t sound it. At all. You didn’t lose your accent over there. I mean they’re alright, they’re nice, but a bit full on. I couldn’t deal with it tonight.“
Amy was sharing her McDonald’s fries with me, one of the rare times a conversation strikes up between strangers on a train in the UK.
“You wouldn’t think I worked in the City, eating my McDonalds. I’ve only had 3 glasses of wine. I’m not drunk.” She was. “Yeah, I made the President’s club at work, they’re sending me first class to Hawaii. I made a big sale, so, yeah. I couldn’t give a shit about it though, my job.”
“Now that’s something no one will ever do for me in my job.” I said ruefully.
Amy looked at me with bloodshot eyes and smiled. “Well you’re at the wrong company aren’t ya?“I wanted to explain that the nature of the business of her employer, a massive IT giant, and that of lowly VFX company are very different, but I just smiled back and finished off the fries.