The Deborah Chronicles Parts 1 through 3 brought such acclaim from my loyal audience that I am driven to provide you with even more true stories. I was concerned that I might not have anything interesting to report, but -- as most of you know -- my life is always, at the least, interesting. Having finally discarded all existentional wonderings, I finally understand that my reason for being is to entertain my friends through my triumphs and pratfalls. So, with that said, welcome to:
THE DEBORAH CHRONICLES - PART 4
Contents:
*A Case of Mistaken Identity*
It was a lovely evening at the outdoor Pines Theater, listening
to
music, drinking wine, picnicking with a one of those non-date
dates (you
know, when it has all appearances of a date, smells like a date,
and
quacks like a date, but you're "just friends"). I was on my
way to the
Ladies Room when I saw a woman I recognized as a therapist I
had talked
with 3 or 4 times. I greet her, smile broadly (so she can see
how
well-adjusted I am!), and ask about her summer. She in turn,
asks about
mine, and -- wanting to impress her with just how well-adjusted
I am --
I start bragging like a teenager about having ANOTHER job interview,
having several men buzzing around, taking trips, enjoying music.
But
her responses confuse me. For example, she says, "Oh, are you
looking
to leave UMass?" "Huh?," I think, "she knows I'm considering
it." Then
she says, "You know Marvin's leaving (my counterpart at Amherst
College)." And then I become really confused, "Wha? How does
Renee
know Marvin and when did they get on a first name basis?" And
it is
shortly after I go on and on about not wanting to fundraise for
those
rich private schools that I realize that the woman I am speaking
with is
NOT the therapist, but in fact, is my counterpart at Smith College!!
Who I have now not only insulted, but have revealed that I am
looking to
leave UMass, AND have told her my business about men!!
Did I mention how well-adjusted I am lately?
I did something similar once before -- I think with less severe consequences. I got on a plane. When I got to my row, there in the aisle seat was a woman I recognized as the Chair of the Board of The Union Institute where I was working at the time. We exclaimed loudly to one another about the likelihood of being on the same plane and being seated in the same row. Then we did the general plane starting conversation of where are you going, where did you come from. She tells me she has been gambling in Las Vegas and is on her way home. And I am confused, but accept that maybe I just don't remember things right. The plane is going to Baltimore, and I would swear this woman lives in Indianapolis, but I don't want to show that I didn't read the memo announcing her move, so I let it go. The gambling also surprises me, this woman is a high-powered lawyer, I just didn't figure her for that sort of thing. We had a conversation on and off that in hindsight I am certain was peculiar. It wasn't until we had disembarked the plane and this woman introduced me to her son that I realized that she was the woman who worked at the front desk of my apartment building!!
Somehow, the synapses located in that part of my brain responsible for recognition do not fire correctly. (Does everybody remember the infamous "Do I know a Tom Bradley incident?! When I was certain that the man on the other end of the phone was just some guy I had given my number to and couldn't remember rather than being the Mayor of Los Angeles?!!)
Perhaps the worst demonstration of this brain failing was when I picked up the phone one day and heard an unidentified man's voice on the other end. He's going on and on, and I'm thinking to myself, "I know this voice! I KNOW this voice." It was my father.
I did mention that I am well-adjusted didn't I?
*Car Wash Man is Deposed*
Just when I think I have experienced the most unlikely of pick-up
places, I have exceeded my previous record. Some of you may
recall the
sunny day when I pulled into a school yard car wash in DC and
pulled out
with the phone number of the man chaperoning the event. (Gee,
I hope
those kids made it to their soccer match in Florida.)
Rest Stop Man now claims the title of Ridiculous Pick-ups. I was driving back from my recent trip to DC on a day that was far too hot when I see a sign in Connecticut that the Boy Scouts are offering free coffee and hot dogs at the next rest area. Yes, indeedy, I must stop -- not that I want coffee or hot dogs -- but I must show them my support and, besides, they're right, I should take a break. So I wander over to the refreshment area the Boy Scouts have set up (Y'all are thinking I picked up a Scout leader, aren't you? Wrong! And I'm not even talking to those of you who think I hit on the Eagle Scouts!) All of a sudden a voice pops up, "Who says you can't get a free lunch any more?" and a conversation is begun. It turns out that he lives within in 20 minutes of me in Western MA. I drive away with 5 glasses of ice cold water from the Boy Scouts and a phone number from Free Lunch Guy.
*Will I Need an Agent?*
My "juicyness" (Deborah term for when the world notices and appreciates
you) is not confined to the world of romance. The occasional
resume
sent out is reaping quite a harvest. I've had 3 new preliminary
(phone)
interviews recently: The Gill Foundation in Denver (Director
of
Grantmaking), the Mott Foundation (Program Officer), and the
University
of Michigan (more Foundation Relations work). And I'll be applying
for
the Director's position at the Foundation Center Library in DC.
I am
learning that my resume and cover letters are sufficient enough
to grab
people's attention. I've only sent out one resume that I haven't
heard
back from and that was just mailed! So, I'm feeling mighty full
of
myself lately. For the first time in my life, a job search is
not being
conducted from a point of unemployment or job misery. Imagine
that.
That's the latest, folks! Stay tuned for future editions of
The Deborah
Chronicles.
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