All dressed up

Back when I was still working in state government, my department had an awards dinner each November. It was a big deal. If you were in management, it was a command performance. You were expected to attend.

The guys just wore a suit. Same as they did everyday to work. In fact most of them just worked late that night and then went straight to whatever hotel had gotten the bid for the dinner that year. When I say "worked late" you understand that means they hung out in a bar shooting the breeze about sports or somethin'. Then their wives would meet them at the dinner.

But for the women it was a trial to figure out what to wear. It was a dressy affair. We mostly wore suits to work, but we had to walk a fine line about dressing up to an evening work function.

You needed to look nice, but you couldn't look sexy. Sexy is not a good look for a woman who hopes to be regarded seriously at work. But the wives could look sexy. They might work, but they worked somewhere else. So the female accountants in my department were in a quandary each year about how to dress, what to wear, etc.

The department wasn't all in one location. I was in the bureau that made policy for the entire department, and the rest of the employees were scattered out in other state departments. They worked for us, but they worked WITH other departments. A budget office is like that. So there were lots of us, but we got together only this one time a year. Well, there was the Christmas party, but that wasn't mandatory.

You guys are always interrupting me. I would naturally go in a straight line when I tell a story. So where was I? Oh. Yeah. Pickin' out a dress.

I don't mind shopping. Especially for me. I went to what passes for a nice store in these parts, and I tried on a bunch of frocks. I finally settled on one that I liked. It wasn't on sale, but I figured, this is for work, so a little bit pricey is okay. I mean, I had a career, right?

This dress was one piece, but looked as if it were three pieces. It had a black skirt, a white blouse, and a red vest with gold embellishment sewn on it. The vest looked like a separate piece that could be removed, but it could NOT be removed. Trust me on that.

I don't know how long ago this was, but it was long enough ago that I was still lookin' pretty good. And I was lookin' pretty good in this dress. So I bought it.

So I go to the big event. I go early enough that I'm there for the cocktail hour and can get the compliments that I deserve on how I look. And I do. Get the compliments. I get a lot of compliments. This is a noticeable dress and I look good in it.

I'm there about 40 minutes, suckin' up the compliments, when in walks my friend Bobbi. She works in a different building and we of course haven't compared notes on dresses. She's wearing my dress. That Bobbi.

Did I mention that it's a noticeable, eye-catching dress? Well, it is. And Bobbi is wearin' it and so am I. We get a lot of ribbing about it. Lots of jokes. Lots of fun for all. 'Cept me and Bobbi are embarrassed. Well, that's life. At least we're friends and all. And I'm at least I'm 40 pounds lighter and the dress looks better on me, so okay. I'll survive.

The big honcho of a state department is the Secretary. The Secretary usually arrives fashionably late for these affairs. In time for dinner, and in time for the awards, but not in time to hobnob with the peons.

The Secretary came in finally, with his younger, lovely wife. I'm sure you've guessed it: She was wearing MY dress. Bobbi's dress. There are three damn identical dresses.

Noticeable dress. The same damn dress. No-way-it-could-be-disguised dress.

Pretty uncomfortable evening after that. I was happy to get home.