Entrée of Self-Doubt, With a Side of Nerves

I’m just sitting here waiting for it to be 11 o’clock.  I’m going to a “ladies who lunch” luncheon at The Country Club.  I’m trying my hardest to stop shaking in my boots (I mean, non-designer sandals).  It’s not like I haven’t moved in posh circles before—I’ve twice been a regular on the Hamptons’ social scene, but I was more of an inconspicuous hanger-on—but this particular event has my stomach in knots.  I can’t lie when they ask about whom I am and what I’m doing with my life.  Some people there will actually know me and unequivocally will not support my delusion of grandeur—that I work in publishing, and by that I don’t mean writing a stinkin’ blog; that I live in a palatial mansion, and by that I don’t mean my one bedroom apartment; that I have primo stock options and am developing my portfolio, and by that I don’t even know what that means!

I need to prepare myself for whatever these ladies toss my way.  I hope my wit and response time are razor sharp and that I don’t stumble into bad lighting.  Wish me luck.

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1 Response to Entrée of Self-Doubt, With a Side of Nerves

  1. Leslie says:

    I find that razor sharp wit can get you through most anything, and especially schmooze fests… self deprecation never hurts either. Good luck and know that I am expecting a full report on the luncheon!

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