We can't dance to your groove

[illusionofjoy]

I am still very new to the whole corporate environment that comes with being employed full time. I'm not sure that I will ever get used to it. The paycheques are nice, but I still feel out of my element in a circumstance where I am only allowed to show up to work in jeans and a T-shirt once a week - and even then, only if I've purchased a "casual Friday" sticker, which doesn't even match my clothing, but must cling to my sleeve regardless. When I wear the slacks and button-down shirt that is my required wardrobe, I feel like a fraud. Here I am, playing "dress-up" so as to fit into an environment which is essentially alien to me.

The office isn't so foreign to me at this point. I am at the point where my job responsibilities are second nature. Rarely do I forget to do even the smallest of details and when something does slip my mind at the end of the day, I know that I can catch it the first thing the next morning. My morning is a routing wherein I go to the trolley station, buy a newspaper, get on the car in the hopes of finding someplace to sit and, if I find a seat, I doze for about twenty minutes before arriving downtown. At that point, I get off the trolley, walk to my building, swipe my badge on the pad to allow me in the doorway, take the elevator up to my floor, turn right, sign in, turn left, arrive at my desk, boot up my computer, etc. Like a VCR programmed to record the same show at a certain time every weekday, this is what I do.

This is what I do and I try to shake the creeping feeling that it is my life...it isn't. I see people who have made their jobs into their lives and they seem to be the most miserable individuals in existence. This is why I really try to shake the spectre that my job has to be my life. I don't want to become lost to a simple methodical existance. I've seen and learned too much to be simply satisfied with mere routine and a bi-weekly paycheque.

Every year my company puts on a "dinner-dance." True to the name, this is an event where all employees and their guests are invited to dress up for a night consisting of hor d'oeuvres (with a cash bar) followed by an actual dinner, live entertainment and finished with a live DJ presiding over a dance floor. joi_division and I went together to this year's dinner-dance on Saturday, opting to leave less than ten minutes into the "dance" part, being that we just couldn't jam with the polyester crowd. Those coworkers who stayed mentioned to me this morning that the disco revival had lasted all night long. I was told that it was okay, however, because disco was "inoffensive" music. I mentioned that Joi and I were pretty offended by it, hence our leaving.

Days before the actual dance, several of my coworkers came up to me to ask one or both of the following questions: "What colour will your date be wearing?" or "What colour will you be wearing?" Sighing inwardly and giving the obvious answer was always met with, "well, I think you should shock everyone and come wearing something bright!" Quelle drôle phrase.

It was statements like those which put me off of the idea of even going at all. I had once read somewhere that, "if you liked high school, you'll love the workforce" and have experienced few things to negate the inherit truth of that statement. Still, the "dinner-dance" was an opportunity to score a free meal and to show Joi a nice time. It is rare that she and I go out on actual "dates" - not that we ever did - so, with this in mind, I had asked her if she wanted to go in the first place. Last weekend I even went shopping with her after the flood waters receded so that she could buy a dress for the occasion. After coming up fruitless at the Robinson Mall, we ended up going to the Fashion Bug Plus in Crafton, where she found something she liked in less than ten minutes.

The evening of the event itself, Joi and I were amoung the first few to arrive. True to form, we spent most of the time people-watching as a handful of my coworkers along with a great glut of employees from other departments whom I didn't recognise filed in. Joi bought herself a glass of wine, to calm her nerves, I suspect. I probably should have had a drink myself, but I found that the alcohol was overpriced and the selection was lacking in anything I'd willingly imbibe. A few of my coworkers came up to the two of us to say hello. In certain cases, I was sure that their greetings were really poorly masked attempts to "gauge the freaks," but a smile and a handshake are the lubricants which keep society running smoothly over the rough road that is life and those nagging fears of what may be - or may merely be perceived as - mildly different.

Throughout the meeting and the mingling the preceded dinner by an hour, Joi freely availed herself of the hor d' oeuvres that were spread upon tables and being floated about by an assortment of servers. I did as well, though not as much, fearing for the state of my digestive tract and thinking that I'd be having a full dinner in less than an hour. When dinner was served and we were finally allowed to sit down at the tables set up in the other section of the hall, Joi and I ended up sitting with two other "outcasts." Each table was set up for eight individuals. At the table Joi and I situated ourselves was a total of four. The two of us don't mingle well, so we found two other people who didn't seem to be mingling and who looked otherwise harmless. I actually do have trusted acquaintances in the company, however, the majority of them opted out of this year's event.

Dinner itself wasn't bad, however, I believe my entrée was accompanied by too many carrots. The chicken was good. The potatoes were good (with an unhealthy dose of salt - but I always do that). The salad was good, but in need of cucumbers. The tart which was served as dessert was tasty as well. However, I could have done with fewer carrots smothering the main course, because the orange veggies just don't go well with chicken. Joi opined that the hor d'oeuvres were better than the actual dinner itself.

The entertainment portion of the night was dominated by a horrible calypso band, the members of whom butchered - I mean - played a variety of songs which, in their natural habitat would have been soft rock or AOR hits. At this point, I asked Joi if she wanted to go outside onto the balcony. This year's event was being held at the convention centre, a very modern building with a sweeping arched roof meant to mimic the sweep of the cables on the city's many suspension bridges. There are several balconies on the riverfront side of the building, from which one can view Northside, along with PNC Park and the remains of a dock pinned the support of one of the bridges crossing the Allegheny River, swept away by the recent flooding.

It was dark out when we visited the balcony, though there was plenty of ambient light reflected off of the river for me to see Joi all dressed up. Her dress was form-fitting, revealing more cleavage than she had allowed to go free in public for months at this point. One could see the tattoo on her chest, right below her neck. We kissed on that balcony, quite possibly engaging in the only signs of affection between a couple of anyone in the hall that night. We weren't minglers or disco fans, but the two of us were always genuine. I wonder if we were also the most alive that night as well.

Comments

[invader-zins.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure that I will ever get used to it..... but I still feel out of my element in a circumstance where I am only allowed to show up to work in jeans and a T-shirt once a week...... When I wear the slacks and button-down shirt that is my required wardrobe, I feel like a fraud.

Don't get used to it. Better to feel like a fraud at work, than to stop being true to yourself. I spent too long trying to deny my punk/rivethead past, and that resulted in me pretty much loathing myself. Took more than two years for me to get over it, and to quit trying to deny 'me'.

There's a site... corporategoth.com or something... at least there's a Yahoo Group like that... worth checking out...

[xeyli.livejournal.com]

Work should always be kept apart from Life. My mom, before she retired, lived her life very much separated from work. She took on the state job to earn enough money to support her family.

Also, a friend of mine, who is a band teacher, once told me that she doesn't keep many personal items in her office at school, especially not pictures of family and friends. This way, she reminds herself that she is at WORK and shouldn't start moving her HOME into her WORKPLACE.

[joi-division.livejournal.com]

This way, she reminds herself that she is at WORK and shouldn't start moving her HOME into her WORKPLACE.

The only thing I have at work is a picture of my cat; which is this funny one (he's attempting to sit in a box way too small for him hence the cuteness) and makes me smile when I need it. Otherwise, that is it.

I don't keep a lot of personal effects at my desk anymore- because if I have to make a quick run for it, I can!

[joi-division.livejournal.com]

It's still driving me nuts what music the band slaughtered. I guess it was so bad that I am attempting to block it from my memory.

And it was one of those rare occasions where I was drinking to actually have a drink rather than calm myself in awkward situations. (Like I used to do a lot back in the days of Ceremony) I actually wanted some wine...or a different kind of wine- rather than whine. ;)

You do deserve kudos for going dress shopping with a woman though. *smooch*