As Keighley mentioned, in an earlier post, I’m in Chicago this week. Don’t be jealous. While it may seem glamorous to some, let me assure you IT’S NO WALK IN THE PARK. You see, I’m alone this trip. Without the companionship of “The Plastics” I feel empty. I’m accustomed to being with my dysfunctional work family for 40+ hours a week. When this routine gets shattered, I have a hard time functioning.
Exhibit A: When I work from home, I end up calling Dallan every 20-25 minutes with some stupid question or useless piece of information.
D: Hello?
Moi: Hey, how’s work goin’?
D: Good.
Moi: Oh, well, Snatch (our big dog) was in the backyard and she barked at some people walking by outside. Isn’t it weird how we won’t hear her bark for months, yet, she’ll bark at some lady pushing a stroller? ({pause} cue solemn voice inflection) Now our neighbors probably think we have a killer Pit Bull. ({longer pause} cue defensive voice inflection) Don’t they know all pit bulls aren’t mean. I mean, within any breed you’re likely to have a bad seed. {even longer pause} Anyways, that’s all I was calling to tell you. Be safe.
See what happens when I don’t get a proper dose of my dysfunctional work family? I take it out on my husband.
Since I’m feeling alone, deserted, isolated, neglected, unattended (there are alot of adjectives for alone, I could keep going) I decided it was best for me to get out of my hotel room tonight and venture on down to the hotel’s Bar & Grill (people watching does wonders for my soul). Upon entering the Bar & Grill I realized all of the diners were business professional males in their mid-thirties to mid-forties. Immediately, I felt like a fish out of water (i.e. I lacked a certain part of the male anatomy).
As soon as I sat down at a table, the Bar & Grill hostess (who was also male {would he be considered a host instead of a hostess?}) scurried over to my table with a menu. Upon handing me the menu, he made a point of showing me a salad I may be interested in trying.
Wait? Salad? What about appetizers & entrees? Are you trying to ellude to the fact that I could stand to eat a salad? Or, are you (Mr. Hostess) implying that business women eat salads? {Maybe I didn’t get the salad memo at our last “Team” Meeting}
I decided that Mr. Hostess was implying the second of the two, so I jumped on the stereotypical bandwagon and ordered a salad.
Now, my internal awkwardness did not stop here. You see, I HATE SPORTS. Okay, the word HATE isn’t strong enough to describe my feelings about football, basketball, baseball, et cetera. (Please note: my relationship with sports was great before I got married).
Back to my drawn out story….
Why do I bring up my hatred for sports? Well, yours truly, forgot that you can’t have a Bar & Grill without a 5-10 Flat Screen TV’s playing ESPN Sportscenter. Since I needed to keep up the “I’m alone and I’m totally okay with it” persona, I found myself sitting there for an hour with my eyes glued to Sportscenter.
In the end, my desire for portraying an “Independent Business Women” (AKA I’m a huge feminist) totally trumped my original purpose of the Bar & Grill Trip – People Watching.
If only “The Plastics” were here.
~Camberley
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It looks like you found yourself in a public place more equivalent to a private men’s club. I feel your discomfort and isolation. As you may have gathered from my bio, I grew up in a feminist household, where my mother sued our country club (for change, not money) to get women equal tee times on the golf course and on the club’s governing board.
If you ever feel like your discomfort is no big deal, think about how awful it is that there are no serious women’s club-type places where women gather and do business.
How are you feeling now? While you were in Chi Town I was writing about my new “profession” Hope it gives you a laugh!
You should go say hello to my little brother.
Chi Town Guest, let us, the “non-Plastics,” (maybe “the Burlaps,” or “the Wools”), rectify your lost evening. There is nothing like “mall sushi” at a chain Japanese restaurant in 7 degree weather to cheer the soul. No sports allowed. Promise.
Camberley, this is an awesome post and I (and many women) can totally relate to how you were feeling. Thanks for putting it into a very amusing story.
PS – enjoy looking like you’re 18!