Annual Meeting

A lot of corporations have annual meetings. It is not uncommon to hear lots of crazy stories from these meetings as alcohol typically flows freely and vice presidents are there to witness all kinds of egregious behavior.

I could write lots of tales of embarrassing stories along those lines involving myself and others. What is more interesting though, is what happens to me personally. Though I have been 7 times, I experience anxiety over it. I'm not sure why. I think maybe it is because typically I only see most of my co-workers once a year, and I want them to think well of me. I want to be my best self, which in reality maybe doesn't even exist.

Anyone who knows me well and sees me regularly, knows that I give "low maintenance" a whole new definition. My attempts at fashion are usually a few years behind and questionable. I own a lot of make up, but rarely wear it. It is not uncommon for me to wear sweatpants lots of places they should not be worn. I think that adding a brightly colored fleece from old navy or putting on a 6 year old pair of pumas instead of my huge nikes that I work out in really snazzes up an outfit and makes it "fashion forward". I believe that if you wear a dressy watch with diamonds on it, then all else is forgiven. If you own sunglasses big enough to cover half of your face, then who needs make up?

However, there is this whole other "work me". And at the annual meeting (which I lovingly call "the pageant"), I am "work me" on steroids. As I type this, I have white strips on my teeth, and a fresh layer of sunless tanner. I will pack, un-pack, and re-pack at least 3 times. I might purchase whole new outfits. One of my favorite things is that I believe that "meeting me" would wear things that I would never wear at home. I will get to the meeting, look in my suitcase and wonder what on earth I was thinking.

I wish I could blame this on others, but it's all me. My co-workers are extremely nice people, not judgmental at all. I don't have any great aspirations to move up in our company, so I'm not trying to impress any higher-ups. What's worse is that I will tell people once I get there. I will go up to someone and say "I bought this shirt, it's crazy, look how crazy it is, why did I buy it?". I wear my neurosis on my sleeve.

So next week I will go. I will wear odd clothes, my teeth will be white(r)(my teeth are kind of a lost cause, they are a weird shade of yellow and gray, the white strips don't really do anything except make me feel better about it). My skin will not be tan, but the white glow will have been knocked off by the sunless tanner.

I will have a good time in spite of all of this dread. My co-workers will still like me, even though they will secretly wonder how someone so crazy still has a job. Maybe some day I will get a handle on this annual freak out and figure out what it's all about. Until then, let's be thankful for the drug store, where hope is sold in the form of lotions, creams, teeth bleach, and false advertising!