Thus Upward Mobility Doth Make Idiots of Us All

Well, fuck.

It is cold and rainy here in Chi--cold to the point that "rainy" may actually be "sleety" within a couple of hours. And today was the Big Yearly Meeting at work.

The BYM is an all-day affair, involving lots of out-of-state folks who make a special trip for the express purpose of having their asses bored COMPLETELY off. And every year the only mitigating factor is a really good free lunch at one of the restaurants near Place Where I Work. All the coordinators and major staff have to be at the meeting; the support staff get to stay behind and do support-staff things, but they DO get invited to lunch.

The other problem with the BYM: it's a dressy affair. We're expected to look like human beings, which means that once a year these people get to see me in a dress. Which makes me grievously uncomfortable, in many many ways. Mostly because everyone takes the opportunity to tell me how "nice" I look. Well fuck. I don't WANT to be noticed like that. It makes me want to hunch my shoulders and hide behind my hair. (Amy, my supervisor, once opined that I dress the way I do because I am "uncomfortable with my femininity". Which I think was a veiled way of implying that I was a lesbian or something. I wanted to tell her "no, I'm uncomfortable with itmes of clothing that involve nylons. Because they suck, and were clearly invented by men. I am also uncomfortable with about 99% of all forms of attention.")

So today, I wore my dress. (Yes, my ONE dress. I own others; they do not fit.) And of course, got the usual reaction. Which caused in me the usual counter-reaction--the hunch and hide.

Well, mostly.

See, I knew the Cute Brit would be at lunch. And yeah, I was a little stoked for that. We're getting to be pretty good buddies, me and the Brit--being the two political freaks in an office full of just-left-of-mainstreamers will cause bonding, I've found. We also have a lot in common. For instance, we both agree that the database guy should be impaled on a fence-post somewhere and left for the vultures. In fact, both of us would willingly purchase vultures just for the purpose.

Typically understated, his comment when he saw me was, "Well! Look at you!" And that was about the most reaction I would have wanted--anything more and I would have gone off and cowered in a corner somewhere. We sat at the same table for lunch, along with an assortment of the office's quirkier personalities.

At the end of lunch, I offered everyone at my table a ride back to the building, since I had the truck and needed to go back anyway. He was the only one who took me up on it, which...yeah, :::squeeeee!::: So I drove him back and, in a burst of inspired non-flirting, offered him a ride home as he got out. And he said, "That would be great!" Which, ALSO ::::squeeeeeee!::::

And then I got back to my office.

I thought to myself "You know, I'd better see if I missed any calls on my cellphone during lunch." So I took my phone out, and it started ringing in my hand.

"Hello, is this Gladys? This is Kim, from the agency? You know that job you were interested in? Well, I have some good news. They want to interview you. And I have some bad news, too...they want to interview you TODAY." Turns out the hiring guy was in from the East Coast office, and they'd scheduled all their interviews for yesterday and today, and I wasn't even going to get an interview because they had already scheduled them all, but then someone cancelled and they asked for me instead.

Now, how perfect is THAT? On the ONE day that I've worn a dress, got the car, and can make an escape with minimal fuss, I get this call to interview for what's essentially my ideal job. So of course I said yes.

And then I had to call my Brit and tell him "hey, I have to rescind my offer..."

He was fine with it, of course--he knows I'm job-hunting and cheers me on every time I go on an interview--but...::::waaaaaaahhhhhh.:::::::

So, putting potential chemistry aside, I went on my interview. Which I don't think I did such a hot job with--they apparently need more network-hardware skills than I've got--but we shall see.

If I don't get this job, however, I think I will kick myself in the ass. Repeatedly.