I was speaking to a friend last month, and we got to talking about our CV's and business networking. She suggested that I update my photo on my profile of one of the sites that I use. I made a mental note to schedule a session at the photo studio, and finally got around to doing that early last week: an appointment for Friday afternoon at 17h30.
So, as the workday was starting to wind down on Friday afternoon, I started checking the clock to allow myself enough time to shower, dress, and make sure that I could still knot my tie. One of the advantages of working home office is that business casual takes on a whole new level. One tends to put on the comfy stuff, and that may or may not include threadbare Clash t-shirts from circa 1986. That is all well and good, and does a fine job in keeping the more professional business or formal attire in really good nick. This is pretty much my case, since most of my "good" clothing is either brand new, or still fresh from the dry cleaners.
I identified the shirt and tie I wanted to wear, and was getting ready to jump in the shower when my mom skyped me. I quickly mentioned that I was a little short on time, to which my mother responded with an "OK," then launched into a little summary of all the happenings since we last talked together. We spoke (or rather, she spoke, I listened) for a further 10 minutes, and then I had to interrupt her, "Mom, I have an appointment in half an hour. We will continue another day, OK?"
I never like having to do that with anyone, and certainly not with my mother, but I was eagerto avoid showing up looking a little anxious and rushed when I got to the studio. Fortunately, I took a speedy shower, dressed, and got the tie right on the first try. My luck continued when I got to the U-Bahn, where the train arrived just as I was walking onto the platform. Two quick stops later, I walked upstairs to Merianplatz and then the 100 meters to the studio. Right on time.
A friend of mine had suggested I use this studio for photos, and she actually accompanied me on my first visit some 7 years ago when I last had my CV photos done. She brought along some helpers to make sure that I smiled during the photo session, and this is exactly what I was thinking about when sat down on the little stool. A couple of years ago, I was at this same studio to get my passport photos done, but for those pictures, one has to look a bit more serious. For CVs, one typically smiles, or at least looks more open and friendly. I had to concentrate a little on not smiling too much, since the memory kept making me chuckle.
The photographer positioned me and snapped a few dozen pictures, and then we sat down at the computer to finalize the photo. We chatted a little bit about which photos looked the best, and then finally decided on a keeper. She told me that she would have everything ready by Monday, I paid up, and that was that. 20 minutes total.
I had dinner plans with some folks, so headed back up the street, stopping off at the kiosk for a packet of ciggy. The nice woman there gave me a smile and a bit of a compliment on my attire; I certainly don't normally dress like that when standing around at her kiosk on Monday evenings drinking beers with some friends.
As I approached the pub, I met some folks that I know sitting outside. They, too, reacted a bit to my attire. I quickly explained where I had just come from, then went on into the pub, where one of the staff immediately dropped a glass as she saw me. She and I normally speak together in Spanish, and once again, I gave her the explanation I had given outside just a minute before, albeit in Spanish.
The working weeks so far in 2017 have not been particularly fantastic, but unlike in years past, I haven't been rushing into the pub as an escape from the unpleasantness of work, choosing rather to find other alternatives to simply pinting up to forget said troubles. Thus, I am in the pub slightly less (if only just a smidge) than before.
La chica got over her surprise at seeing me in different clothes and got me a beer, which I greatly enjoyed as an official start to my weekend. A few minutes, my dinner companions arrived, and once they got over their shock at seeing me in a coat and tie, we walked down the street to the restaurant.
We sat down in the busy restaurant, and the waitress was particularly friendly to me, as pointed out by one of my friends at the table. I tried to argue that it was only because I was being polite, and it had nothing to do with my attire, but the excuse sounded a bit feeble.
Dinner was quite tasty, but the restaurant had a second booking for our table, so at 20h, we paid for the meal, and headed back up to the pub for a usual couple of post-dinner drinks; our usual way of starting the weekend.
The pub was much much fuller upon our return, due in part to the rugby match being shown on tv, but mainly simply because it was a Friday evening. We had run into a few folks walking down the street as we made our way back to the pub, and I had assumed that the reason that the child who accidentally rode their scooter into a potted plant on the sidewalk did so not because of their surprise to see me dressed up, but rather because they were still somewhat new to scooter riding. True, the child's parents paid me a compliment on how I was dressed, but beyond the father's raised eyebrows and the mother's "gosh, you look nice," I did not think it was that big of a deal.
However, the reception I got in the pub from not only the bar staff but everyone else I happened to know came as a surprise. True, I was rather flattered, but felt a bit sheepish; perhaps I should have removed the tie and changed shirts prior to going to dinner. On the other hand, it felt sort of good to be smartly dressed, and I was rather pleased that I had not gotten any duck sauce on my white shirt or my tie.
Through the remainder of the evening, the compliments continued to come, but I was glad to be brought back down to earth when a late coming friend said, "what happened to you?" as he got his Äppler from the barmaid. It wasn't an unfriendly thing to say, it was simply his way of noting that I was dressed out of character. We laughed a little as we remembered the last time either one of us had actually dressed up; we had both been at a wedding a couple of summers ago.
Na ja. As usual, the time came to pay up and go home and tumble into bed. I carefully removed my coat and tie (as carefully as one can when things are bit fuzzy after several pints) and fell asleep with a little smile on my face.
I will likely remember the evening every time I log on to my business networking account, but that isn't a bad thing at all.
See you out there, in whatever you happen to be wearing.
bryan
No comments:
Post a Comment