Introversion and shyness piled on top of one another are not conducive to fitting in anywhere--especially not my place of work, which happens to have a national reputation for being super wacky and extroverted. I've got the wacky bit down, but it rarely reveals itself in the endearing ways it is supposed to. My team's goal, and my own personal goal is to be more social. Recently, at a workday beer-tasting--yes, that happens--a coworker from another department said, "[Insert my department name] never F*&%^ comes to anything!" Then he backed his way out of the room with an ice chest, all the while sticking out his ass and saying something hysterical that has since slipped my mind. It seemed at the time a revelation--perhaps because I had been sipping beer brewed by trapist monks with a penchant for high alcohol by volume.
Given the revelation, I decided to attend a happy hour after work one day thrown by said fellow's team and another in the same department. I arrived knowing almost no one, and hid out front for a few minutes in 114 degree heat, wondering if anyone I knew was in some secret room after seeing no one I recognized. While I stood sweating awkwardly, an elderly man approached with his cart saying, "Ooooooweee, you picked the right day to be standing here!" His cart was covered in cheap cotton underwear, which was probably newer and nicer than any I own, but was also probably hot off a shelf at Walmart, so I giggled at him and said, "No thank you," and he headed on his merry way. With sweat beginning to pool and drip rather than bead, I decided to suck it up and head inside. When I approached a table of ladies who looked like they could be members of the opposing team, they confirmed that they do work for the same company, but noted they are not members of the team for whom I was searching, and instructed me to head out back and not to forget my sunglasses. I laughed awkwardly, introduced myself more awkwardly, and headed for the door with my sunglasses.
Upon exiting, I found a patio graced with a painting of two horses humping in an otherwise pedestrian equestrian scene and a long table surrounded by coworkers whom I barely know or haven't met. Feeling gutsy, I proceeded to the far end of the table where a bunch of strangers and one person I met once were seated, and pulled up the heaviest metal chair I have ever attempted to lift. With a mild welt forming on one pinched finger, and vaguely out of breath, I sat down and said hello while shyly reintroducing myself to the semi-acquaintance, who, when he met me the first time, was shocked to learn I had been with the company for over a year. He laughed and didn't remember me while others smiled politely, but avoided introducing themselves, as I did. I took my seat beneath an umbrella that was dripping water from the kindly mist system. It felt glorious, but it was also soaking my shirt through. I embraced it for a while and ate a hamburger in between strained smiles and attempts to become involved in the conversation.
When a few people with whom I felt comfortable making small talk showed up fashionably late, I promptly restationed myself in the direct sunlight atop a searing concrete bench. My butt threatened to blister, but at least I felt mildly less self conscious for a moment or two. We carried on for about a half hour before I decided it was time to surrender and head home. I said my farewells and headed out through a metal gate with sharp points protruding at my forehead level. My face bounced off of them, and I walked on, head held high.
