Last night there was an issue with the city’s water pipe out front. It’s more complicated to explain than its worth to the story, so just know that I ended up next door at my neighbor to the north’s house seeking out the cell phone number of our duplex mate. Our Neighbor to the North (NttN), hosts a wine tasting party once or twice a month where she educates people on the finer points of wines. And NttN knows the finer points about wine.
This was one of those nights. I knew that. I saw the cars and I knew it was one of her events. But, you see, the city was sending out a crew to work on it last night and our duplex mate’s truck was parked on the street right next to where the leak was sprung. Our NttN has never experienced a small happening – everything is a big deal. So despite my pleas to wait outside on her doorstep while she fetched the much-needed number, she ushered me inside where eight or ten faces turned to stare me down. C’est un beau moment…
Introductions were made, explanations were given; I waved, smiled and apologized for interrupting as politely as possible, though the nervous twitch I get in my cheek when I’m unprepared to be the center of attention was threatening to start. I was prepared to write the number down and scramble back out the way I’d come, but nothing is as simple as you think it will be. NttN dialed his number before I knew what was happening and I just kind of stood there in her office while she handed me the phone and walked back to her guests in the dining room.
[Insert: Most awkward voicemail message ever left in the entire history of voicemail messages.]
I really couldn’t believe that five minutes could be more awkward, but have I mentioned that I’m pretty good at awkward? So in what feels like the longest 4 seconds possible I make it to the front door where I’m about to leave and be home-free, NttN wants to know what I’m doing these days. I, being clueless, tell her that I just graduated and have been searching for jobs.
She: “Oh, well congratulations! What kind of jobs?”
Me: “Administrative assistant type positions, receptionist jobs, and the like. I’m waiting to hear back on an editing internship.”
She: “Oh, well come on.”
And back to the dining room we go.
She: “Everyone! My darling here has just graduated and is looking for a job.”
[Insert odd looks and snickers from peanut gallery.]
I mean, really? Really? Then I have to answer their questions. “Is it a masters in English?” Me: “No, an undergrad.” Loud guffaws, then “Well, good luck with that!” Har. de. har. har. And the questions continued. This comment was a particular favorite: “My son was an English major, but he’s gainfully employed and has his doctorate. Surely you can find something.” Oh, there’s nothing like a snob to make you feel good about yourself. [smirk]
In all seriousness, I think our NttN was trying to be helpful. While I appreciate it, I also can’t forget how embarrassed I was. And while that’s not her fault, I really hate being embarrassed. C’est la vie…
In other news, I moved away from blogger and joined wordpress. I’ve had some issues with blogger lately and wordpress allowed me to transfer all of my old entries. I’m psyched! Though I still need to figure out a few details with wordpress [formatting, uploading images/video, etc]. Also, Google Chrome is pretty fantastic as well.