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Well there was this banquet. I was there to represent. No really, I represented my employer, an economic development agency. (Empowering the less empowered to be more empowered, was my motto. Sometimes I’d throw in a “by any means necessary” if I wanted to sound tough and historically connected to the struggle.) Anyway, I knew lots of people at the dinner. Many organizations had they own tables. I mixed and mingled, glad-handing people I didn’t even know. “Hey, nice to see you. You from Jersey, I’m from Jersey too. What exit?”
Then I saw a friend I did know. “Oh, can I sit with you?”
“If you promise to behave.”
What kind of an answer was that? Beats me. As if I had some kind of reputation. I just took it as a yes and sat down. She had a semi-full table of work colleagues and made the round of introductions.
As soon as she finished I had forgotten the names. Does anyone ever really pay attention when they’re introduced to someone? Only when the person’s cute or is holding a gun on you, I suppose. Although, I don’t know of many situations when someone has a gun and there’s a third person making an introduction. And of course, maybe that’s not exactly when you’d remember the name. I mean, they have a gun. That’s the most important detail.
I don’t think anybody at the table had guns. Couldn’t tell for sure though; it didn’t occur to me to ask either.
How did you get me on the subject of guns anyway? Point of this tangent is: I certainly couldn’t tell you now what their names were. One guy ate two salads. I can tell you that. He and another guy started eating before we were officially told “start your eating!” I didn’t blame them. My snack from home kept me strong. The only thing I was interested in having two of was desserts. Carrot cake. Salad I could have anytime. Nothing against my man having the two salads, btw. Now that I think about it, he probably had two desserts too.
Running out of time and realizing that I must be working toward the end of your attention span, I’ll skip past the church dance troupe and their modern interpretive dancing. … It really just wasn’t the place, especially with the three-year-old I thought was the same age as the teenagers, just on his knees.
I won’t mention the dance troupe leader yelling at us to have spirit because we were lucky to be there, or anywhere for that matter. I’ll admit I took it personal and thought she knew I had missed two meetings that week. For those of you who think that since I’ve put two lines in about it I haven’t skipped it, you’re wrong. I could’ve easily done eight. And I’m not going into detail about the soloist who sang the black national anthem making us sing with her … twice. No, I’m not kidding, soloist … twice! When was the last time that happened at a ballgame?
I’m also skipping past the hosting organization’s president insulting the MC. Whoooweeee. By the end of the dinner Mr. Honorary MC wouldn’t even come back to the podium, waved the prez off telling him he was doing fine and kept on with probably his third piece of carrot cake. But of course, I commented on all of this stuff to my friend, who admonished me continually.
“I told you to behave,” she scolded. These can be riffs for a later, stay tuned.
I’m skipping these to get to my point of after pretending to know all the VIPs during the moove and schmooze, and after all the dinner highlights, I happen to look over my shoulder and see a table of ex-colleagues. I wave and catch of few of their eyes. Most importantly I see a woman who a few months earlier had left that company and recently had a baby. Such a surprise it was to see her there. I waved vigorously. Caught her attention, Then mouthed the words (remember the definition of mouthing words is to move one’s lips in an exaggerated fashion), “didn’t expect to seeeeee you here. How’s the baaaaabyyyyyy?”
Nothing. No response. She just sort of looked at me. Yep. It was one of those moments. All the pieces began to fall into place as I continued waving and speaking. “How aaaaare youuuuuu?” Realistically, my ex-colleague had had her baby too soon to be at any banquet … without her husband. And because she left that company soon after I had, there was no real reason she would be at that event. Then it occurred. The company had recently hired summer staff and she was probably one of them. Just a co-wink-qui-dink that one of the new employees looked a whole lot like a former employee. And of course, just my luck too, right? But I figured a way out. With skill, not for long would she be thinking, who is that fool mouthing ‘how are you baby?’ to me across a formal banquet room? Talk about lack of game! – that’s both of us thinking the last part. I’ll just go over to the table and ask one of my friends to explain away my shame. (Would that there were an off-the-shelf product for me – don’t worry, just apply a dab of shame away, now available in the extra-large idiot size.) My salvation phrase would be easy , rational and could be uttered in a simple breath. “You look a lot like someone who worked for us just a little while ago.”
I took the long way around the table to one of my friends I could entrust such a mission too. Explained my conundrum.
“Yeah, they do look alike,” friend said.
See I told you. Home free.
“But no, she’s not one of our interns. I don’t know who she is.”
ACRIMONY!, thought I. And more expletives followed.
Forget it now. Anything else I do will make the hole only deeper. Imagine: “Excuse me, I just thought you were someone else. … No I wasn’t trying to … I mean …”
And you (and she) (and I) thought I didn’t have game before!
It really was a long night. | 
