dipping your nib in the office ink

The Shindig is over. It was a fabulous success from BCF's point of view. The staff mingled and giggled, relaxed and drank. The food was good, the wine palatable and the warehouse on the Yarra surprisingly gorgeous, despite the slight stench from the muddy waters.

From my point of view, I had a strange time. You know that Ben and I were in a showdown of niceness prior to the event and he had asked me to share his taxi there so I upped the stakes and said he should share our table and save me a dance.

Well, he did share the table and save me a dance. He was INSANELY nice all evening. To the point where I started to think that maybe he was genuine and that he might in fact have actually been flirting with me.

Then I saw him and Peters in the corner, squirrelled away and talking intensely for quite some time.

So I upped my flirt and niceness to try and get the secret plan of him. No luck.

So I upped it even more and after some close slow dancing, took him out on the balcony for a private moment. We kissed. And I thought, if he wasn't such a weasel, the little tingles in my back might be a bit fun to indulge.

Then BANG, flash of a camera as the office services lady took our photo, mid kiss. Ben said something about Peters and partnership and laughed. I don't really remember exactly what he said. I think I was in shock from the camera flash.

This game is not over. I will out-do him yet. I've asked him out for drinks this Saturday night. We'll see who has the upper hand then.

primped and preened

I am primped and preened within an inch of my life. I am waxed, plucked, shaved, trimmed, coloured, tinted, hydrated and anxious as hell.

My Marc Jacobs dress is fabulous and I know I will look great in it, with my slightly darker than usual spray-tanned skin. I know that I will have an ally in Kate. I know that I can chat and network successfully (if I watch my champagne consumption). I know that I can dance with strangers and not feel uncomfortable.

The question then, is why on earth am I so anxious? This is a work function for goodness sake. This is not Cinderella's ball. This is a run of the mill, have a drink or two, shmooze the partners and then circulate round the room kind of event.

The nerves have to be put down to Ben. It is the only explanation I can find. He has been so slimey in his niceness and that conversation with Uncle and Peters, it all points toward this wicked plot to make my life an administrative nightmare rather than a legal heaven (if that's even possible at BCF).

And then to make everything worse, I just ran into Ben in the kitchen. He is looking fabulous. His outdoorsiness is radiant. He has had his hair cut and it is darkly, gently curly at the edges with a good bit of mess about it. It's the kind of hair that screams: 'I get out of bed like this every morning!' And he is wearing his good suit with that brilliant vintage tie that the girls apparently like.

The only thing for it was to out-nice him again. So I smiled and brushed against his arm as I leant across him to fill my mug with hot water for my tea. I giggled a bit and said I was looking forward to this evening. Then he placed his hand on the small of my back and said he was really looking forward to it as well and that I must save him a dance, no excuses.

Then I blushed. He is so much better at this than me.

how to beat them at their own game

Only two sleeps left to Shindig. I have decided that the only way I can possibly beat Ben and his little army is to play their game.

He is being 'fake-nice' to trap me so the best way to ruin the trap is to be 'genuine-nice' in return.

And so, this email, has been sent:

'Ben,

Thank you for the kind offer of a lift on Friday. I am delighted to accept. As you suggest, Kate and I will be looking smashing in our dresses and ready to celebrate another week's end with some champagne.

You must join Kate and I at our table and I look forward to a spin on the dance floor with you later in the night.

Thank you again,

Trixie'

Perhaps I will stab him with a letter opener while we dance. How Shakespearean, if only the warehouse on Yarra had an arras.

the plot thickens

You are all aware that I am convinced there is an evil plot to bring me down that will come to a head this Friday night at the shindig.

I am not sure how it will play out but the latest development is this email from Ben...

'Allan,

I see you buckled and decided to attend the shindig on Friday.

Peters said that you might need a lift. Jean Claude and I are picking Kate up in a cab, why don't you come with us?

I'll be looking smashing in a tux and I'm sure you have a lovely dress, yes? Great, see you at 7.

B'

I can't say no but I need to be prepared, do they sell capsicum spray in Australia?

the spreadsheet

So, with only one week to go to September Shindig, I have managed to compile the ever-important RSVP spreadsheet Uncle requested.

I had myself down as not attending and when I was collecting other people's responses I was shocked to find that most people were attending. Kate and Jean-Claude are of course going. No doubt they will wear matching outfits or at least he will wear a tie that co-ordinates with her dress.

Even the admin staff are going. In fact, they seem quite excited about it. And understandably. They work bloody hard all year with very little thanks from pompous gits with an over-inflated sense of self importance. I'd be excited about a night on the champagne too if I had to work for all those lawyers.

So I did briefly re-consider my non-attendance but then decided not to change my mind and stand firm in my policy of not drinking and networking with work colleagues just because I 'should' rather than because I actually want to.

However, I'm not entirely sure Uncle is so fond of my stand on this issue. I just delivered him the spreadsheet, money and RSVPs including excuses. He was fairly tolerant of the excuses that were based on annual leave and overseas trips but less tolerant of my 'I just don't want to go' attitude.

Uncle said he was 'very disappointed', that Peters would be very 'disappointed' and, most of all, he was sure Ben would be 'very disappointed'.

Which just confirms my suspicion that they are all part of some evil plot to bring me down.

So now, of course, I must attend and I am going to have to look UBER smashing so as not to disappoint anyone and be UBER smart so I can outwit Ben.