||[Dec. 9th, 2003|11:29 am]
For those of you who subscribe to Seventeen magazine, you might remember a popular feature titled "Trauma-rama" in which readers sent in letters describing embarrassing moments. Usually it was their unexpected heavy-flow period staining their new white bikini with deep red polka-dots right in front of their totally secret superhot crush. Mine is a bit more adult, and, I think, a bit more original, since I suspect that most months it was up to the staff of Seventeen to come up with fake embarrassing moments for an otherwise slow mail-month.|
So, in the spirit of Trauma-rama, this entry will be written as a letter to you, the fictional Trauma-rama editor at Seventeen.
When I was in my 20's, I was working in an office as a temp for, like, no money, and it was totally lame-o! The people were nice enough, for the most part, but they were booooring. Mostly I just sat at my desk and pretended to be doing something other than nothing, which is what I was actually doing, all day long.
One day, everyone was laughing and joking together on the other side of my cubicle wall as if I couldn't totally hear them. Finally, someone came over and said they wanted me in the conference room for a staff photo. On the one hand, I was, like, super totally embarrassed, because I didn't know they would be taking a photo of me on that day and I, like, totally wore a maroon button-down shirt and had just shaved so my face was all way superpale and I had a zit on my forehead that looked like a mean third eye and so it was totally not a good day for a picture, like at all. But on the other hand, it was nice to feel included, and my heart felt happy because I thought that maybe they would give me a real job, and me and the boy of my dreams, Health Insurance, would finally be together. They took a couple pictures in the conference room, which I'm, like, totally sure will be so ugly I'll die. Then, and here's the part that makes me want to curl up in bed with a copy of your magazine (wink wink) and a box of tissues and just totally like cry. They took another group photo just without me!!! OMG can you believe it!!! What was the point of taking a group photo with me? Was it just for my benefit? Were they going to send me that one with the negatives so I could remember my shitty job there, while they showed everybody else the one without me and put it on their website? Would me and my dream date, Health Insurance, remain separated like the two greatest lovers of all time, Romeo and Juliet? They kept laughing like it was the most fun in the world, and then I went back to my desk, which wasn't even mine, because I was a temp.
I was like, so pissed.
(subscriber since 1993, on my *fifteenth* birthday, wink wink, I was always mature for my age, lol)