For my job, I’m supposed to appear somewhat put together. I do my best to comply, but for those of you who know me, you realize this is nothing but a facade. If you look at the man behind the curtain, you will find me in Pajama Jeans without a bra eating Chipotle and ordering random items from QVC.
Even though I try to keep up appearances at work, I’m basically just a bunch of smoke and mirrors in an attempt to keep people from knowing the real me. (P.S. I think they know…) Come to think of it, if I glanced in the mirror every so often, I probably would do a better job of keeping the lies going.
We recently hired a new employee in another city and last week I met with him and a few other employees from out of town. We had a client dinner that night and wanted to meet before dinner to have a few beers. The beers were partly to recover from a long day at work, and partly to numb my feet from the pain my shoes would cause from a night attempting to look professional. (It didn’t work…the numbing of the feet or my looking professional.)
We met at the executive suite at a ritzy hotel where my coworkers were staying. (We’re a pretty big deal….and they found a great bargain on Orbitz.) I felt fancy because I had to be buzzed into the special suite even though I had a mysterious stain on the right boob of my dress.
This remains an unsolved mystery but I will continue to wear the dress and pretend like it just happened and I didn’t know about it.
When I say I had to be buzzed in, I don’t mean I had to be buzzed to get in, although my regular readers wouldn’t be wrong to make that assumption. Rather, I had to prove I was important enough to be in the executive suite (the hotel staff clearly didn’t read my blog and didn’t know what a big deal I am).
I met my coworkers and we immediately began chatting and drinking our beers. I tried to come off to the new employee as put together and professional. He didn’t need to find out about me…at least not yet. As we talked, I felt something poking me in the back of my neck. Since I was sitting on a couch that probably cost a year of my mortgage payments, I knew it wasn’t the sofa. I felt my neck and realized there was something large poking me. What kind of irritant was it?
I grabbed the object and pulled it around to further investigate. Because I can’t do anything quietly, my coworkers (and a couple other lucky suite-goers) watched in anticipation as I pulled the phantom item out from behind my neck. And there it was…the large price tag to my necklace…the necklace I’d been wearing all day.
Seriously?! I wore the necklace all day with the price tag on it? And it wasn’t just a small tag with only the price and bar code. Of course not. It was one of those large tags that has a hangy thing to hang the necklace from a rack. (That’s the technical term…”hangy thing.”)
I would like to say I was mortified, but I wasn’t. I was actually pretty impressed that I went an entire work day without noticing my Minnie Pearl fashion statement, or the fact that something was digging into my neck all day. I ripped off the tag and put it on the table for all the executive suiters to see.
I couldn’t have been prouder…because I bought the necklace at Kohl’s and the price tag suggested the necklace was expensive. (They didn’t need to know I bought it with coupons and Kohl’s cash.)
As I stared at the price tag that had become part of my outfit for the day, I thought about what my new coworker must think of me. Did he think I was an idiot? Did he think I was crazy? And then I realized something: of course he didn’t. He thought I was a high roller because I bought a sassy necklace at Kohl’s. Win!