Wednesday, May 16, 2012

A Business Woman I am Not (part 1)

Yesterday I was invited to my first business meeting ... by my husband, but that counts, right??

It kinda sounds lame that at my age I'm having my first business meeting, but what can I say?

I've had meetings at places I worked a hundred years ago, but they were all, you need to do this better, and that should be changed, and this is our new menu, and sell, sell, sell.

Then there were things like meetings with the lawyer to sign the buying a house papers, and I was all, I might as well be just a hand, while I sign my life away.

There were also the countless Doc appointments, and therapist visits for sick baby Crockett, which can be meetingish, but are far more emotionally charged, and more heart cutting outish than anything.

Church meetings every Wednesday night since I was to young to even know it was Wednesday don't count, nor do the committee meetings for this or that woman's groups, which were never really more than taking turns listening to ourselves talk, opened with prayer of course.

Had I known this was a REAL business meeting, I would have stressed more. This was one time I was glad I didn't know ahead of time. No level of beforehand stress and preparation would have made me ready for this.

I quickly changed out of my mom uniform into something that I hoped wouldn't embarrass him, and threw on some make-up, but without a whole lot of forethought. Just after slinging some mac and cheese at the girls, and scarfing down a chicken breast and a gallon of water (don't even ask) I was off.

"Just meeting with the decorator", he said, "just want you there to hear her ideas", he said. Then on the way he mentioned the builder might also be present.

I had to go to the bathroom.

Here's the background:

My man works for a very large corporation as the head of one of their divisions. The building that houses he and his division is soon to be demolished by said corporation for the express purpose of some kind of entertainment rock climby thingama whatcha whoeven cares something. that means he and his staff will be moving into a much smaller, ummmmm can we say  HIDEOUS space. That won't do, cuz we are talking costumers and lots of whosumwhatchits that will see it and need to feel impressed slash comfortable or something. So he, with the help of the people in this meeting, is hoping to transform the space into something.....less hideous.

Cut to meeting.

Upon entering a large impressive building we are ushered into the "meeting". There, we shake hands and introductions fly all around. I may or may not remember even a single name. Then size four with six inch heels and short flirty skirt emerges from behind her bright red apple (the computer not the fruit).
Her once over is excruciating, and my white Capri's want to dig a hole in the slick stained concrete floors and bury us all alive. The builder, and his right hand cabinet maker guy are all.......oh, who really cares what they are all, cuz that size four is still looming ever large and intimidatingly size fourish, Not to mention those six inchers.

1 comment:

Mary said...

I'd go the the bathroom too.