It’s Friday afternoon. Ignore the calendar reminder that you have to get ready for an in-person work event.
Panic that you’re running late. Inevitably don’t find the clothes you were planning on wearing. Complain about having to put on a bra and think of a million excuses not to go.
Suck it up because when else are you going to leave the house?
Order a car to take you from Brooklyn to Staten Island, because you’re late.
Confirm your identity to the driver. Thank him for coming. Immediately stop the small talk.
Get an alert that the work event has been cancelled due to weather. Feel too silly to ask the driver to turn around. After all, if you’re going to put on a bra, you minds well keep going. And it’s not even raining here!
Sit in Friday traffic that gets worse as a downpour starts. Wonder if you’re making the wrong decision to keep going. Convince yourself that it’s easier to keep going than to turn around. At least you’ll be able to say hi to people. You’ve made it this far already, and why pay money just to end up back at your doorstep?
Arrive at the event site, only to be greeted with, “oh no! Did you not see that we cancelled?” Tell them that you knew but decided to keep going. Get lots of praise for your commitment, then feel immediately in the way as another downpour starts, and everyone else jumps into action.
Stand under an awning and watch your colleagues get drenched. Feel bad, but know you would only get in the way if you tried to help. Feel silly for coming all the way over here and knowing you would feel this way. Somehow feel more lonely than if you had just gone back home when you first saw the cancellation.
Feel too embarrassed to tell your work husband that you’re here. The idea of him being too busy to come out and say hi is just as bad as him asking you to wait until he has a break.
Slink off and leave when everyone else is moving things indoors when there’s a break in rain. Don’t feel the need to make a big fuss of leaving, when it felt like you’ve already made a big fuss arriving.
Walk to the Staten Island ferry. Arrive just in time for the rain to pick up again.
Sit in the waiting room for the next ferry. Talk to no one.
Get on the ferry. But now it’s starting to rain again, so sit inside where you won’t get wet. Try not to think about the humidity or the fact that the windows are all fogged up or that there’s zero visibility. Talk to no one.
Get off the ferry and arrive in Manhattan. Take a rambling route to your subway line. If you’re going to be out and by yourself, you minds well make a day of it. Talk to no one.
Finally get to your subway station. Feel tired and wonder why you didn’t choose to hop on a local train and just transfer. Find a seat in the corner of the car and take out a book. Talk to no one.
Arrive back home in Brooklyn and heat up leftovers for one. Chalk it up to four hours out of the house. That counts as something, right?
Wait for the next work event to leave the house again.
