Etiquette Schmetiquette

Last Saturday I had the pleasure/duty of attending a work-related, fancy-schmancy gala. My date, C.M., donned his finest party apparel and I curled my hair for the first time in several years, threw on some eyeliner and a dress, and even wore pantyhose. I didn't however, shave my legs, because I simply don't give a rat's ass. Plus, I figured the pantyhose would conceal my evil, evil leg hair. I like getting dressed up, but a girl has to have her limits.

The night went off without a hitch. The decorations were lovely, the drinks were yummy, and the food was delicious. Women and men paraded throughout the rooms, surveying the silent auction items and making their bids, eating hors d'oeuvres, and sipping wine and cocktails. C.M. and I played the part as best we could, before sneaking away to talk trash about our fellow partygoers.

I don't fit in at these events. C.M. definitely does not either. I mean, we can hold our own, sure, but it's just not natural for us. I'm in my element in comfy pants with a coffee mug of wine, chilling on my porch watching the sunset. C.M. is in his element in a pair of Dickies and a t-shirt, with a cup of jasmine tea and three computer monitors before him. I'm pretty content within my element, and though I can function well at these upscale events, I don't enjoy doing so. It feels false, fake, like a sham---and that's because it is.

Anyway.

So, C.M. and I were seated at our table, surrounded by my coworkers and their significant others. After the salad, the dinner arrived looking spectacular. My coworker, she of the incessant neck gazing (seriously, stop looking at my neck!), was in the bathroom when dinner was being served, so she didn't get a plate because the servers thought the seat was vacant. Everyone else at the table had their food and C.M. and I started to chow down. She arrived back at the table to find that she hadn't received any food. We continued to eat, and by "we" I mean, C.M. and I.

To my horror, I realized halfway into my chicken that no one else at the table had started eating. No one.

I realized with an internal gasp, we are those people. The people who don't wait. Who aren't polite. Who are low class.

I realized what was happening, but of course, C.M. was only thinking one thing: "CHICKEN. Mmmmm….." I flagged down a server and asked for a meal for neck-gazer, and oh, I forgot to mention, she's a vegetarian. "Can you bring her the vegetarian option?" I asked. "Um….yes…..hold on please."

The poor guy came back to tell her it would be a few minutes, as they didn't have a meatless entree prepared. And still, no one was eating. I was torn between being polite and fitting in with these people I can't stand, or sticking by my date and chowing down. I decided that I am glad I'm like him and not like them and continued to stuff my face.

Eventually, neck-gazer noticed everyone was waiting for her and released them of their stupid polite obligation. I felt like saying, "Your food is cold and mine wasn't. Nah-nah-nah-boo-boo."

I think I'll stick to my element. It's nicer there and the food isn't cold.