Friday was one of those days, and I swear it had nothing to do with being the 13th. It's because my guardian angel has the sense of humor of the Monty Python group and has been reading too much Bridget Jones.
I probably should have called in sick, but feeling "puffy" doesn't seem to fall under the company guidelines of when to stay home. Instead, I hit the snooze button and rolled over. The next time the alarm chimed I decided I could get 20 more minutes of sleep if I didn't wash my hair. A pony tail would suffice, along with my fat pants and a shapeless lime green silk blouse that is so bright, no one can focus on me long enough to notice I felt larger than life.
All the Preparation H in the world could not have shrunk those bags under my eyes brought on by that extra half-hour of sleep. Those puppies needed a training bra! Most of the people I come in contact with during the day are over 80 and have to get nose to nose to see who they are talking to, so they probably wouldn't notice my bags.
My evil guardian angel struck around 9 a.m. The ad man from our local paper came in, camera in tow. We love our local newspaper for giving us the opportunity to participate in their annual "Best Of..." contest. For the third time, we've just been voted the "Best Retirement Community in the Ozarks!" My boss got runner-up for Best Boss, and I won the Best Receptionist category.
Can I help it that, when picturing the Best Receptionist in the Ozarks, my cynical Southern Cal attitude problem conjures up the Hee Haw girls in their Daisy Dukes, pigtails and gingham blouses?
When I had gotten my invitation to the newspaper's awards function, I immediately thought professional dress. What an opportunity! This would be the perfect place to Meet Men. Successful Men. My fellow "Best Of" winners. Then I read more and saw the mention of a photograph for the "Best Of" section in an upcoming Sunday edition. Ugh, pictures! I tried some calming visualization techniques to skirt the rising panic attack.
Pictures are a good thing. You've been needing a current picture to send to people. And hey, maybe The Guy will see your picture in the paper and come find you. Heck, maybe hoards of guys will show up, purporting to need Distinctive Living in a Family Atmosphere for their parents, but really wanting to find out if the Best Receptionist could truly exist...
Whoa, is that where my mind went when I neglected to send those two sick tray orders to the kitchen? Some ailing seniors had to survive on water and crackers from their cupboards because I forgot to order their Chicken Maryland and Brussels Sprouts. Can they take my award away for that?
No need. Fate stepped in when the Ad Man waved his camera my way. "Come on into the boss's office and we'll get a picture of the two of you for the paper."
There was my boss, pertly wearing her Thin Clothes thanks to the 20 pounds she has recently lost, trying to tame her sexy, wind-tossed curls into something closer to her usual professional bun. Life just ain't fair, I thought, moving next to her and trying to decide which of my ears stuck out less with my pony tail. Do I even have a good side? Maybe the loud green shirt would reflect the flash of the camera, distorting the focus, necessitating a reshoot.
The Ad Man did say he'd give us the opportunity to request a new photo on Wednesday. I asked my boss what the chances are of my losing 20 pounds in 5 days. Come to think of it, just wearing a blouse that fits would knock 10 off that picture! And losing the eye luggage, another 5. The boss looks great, though, so I can't count on a retake. I will be immortalized as a puffy green receptionist. But hey, I'm the best puffy green receptionist in the Ozarks!
No comments:
Post a Comment