Corporate Diva

To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century. Social gatherings are just not my thing. But that excuse wasn’t going to work tonight. Dinner party at the boss’, you can’t decline that! That would be like willingly kissing that promotion goodbye.

I love my job and my boss is a wonderful person too. It’s just the awkwardness in social gatherings that I can’t handle. Fake smiles, fake talk, fake compliments and you have put on that fake smile and go through it all.

And all that gossip. Office dinner parties seem to be filled with that crap. Who’s whose arm candy, who is the pitiable single creature, who went where for (a ridiculously) expensive vacation. It goes on and on.

Just thinking of all the fake-ness I’m going to be surrounded by, makes me sick. I consider calling in sick, but shrug off the idea immediately. I promised my boss I’ll be there on time, so much for being Miss Punctuality.

The only solace I have is that he will be there. The only person in the entire office, in fact the only person I’ve met so far, who understands me; the real me.

I met him the on the very first day at work. There he was at lunch with almost the entire office clinging to every word he said. You could say he was the popular jock, albeit without the attitude. He saw me sitting all alone and came and sat down with me. I was shocked and impressed. And let me tell you, the guy has impeccable table manners! Well, I couldn’t help but notice because it’s not everyday you see a guy like that.

But I’m lucky enough to see him everyday, for after he came and sat with me that day we kinda hit right off. The thought that he’ll be there tonight at the party awakens a new vigour in me and I get ready.

I dress up really quick. As I look at myself in the mirror, I’m so glad I picked this black strapless gown last week. It has the most amazing fabric and the cut is impeccable. As I touch up my mascara my cell phone pings. It’s a text from him.


I’m sorry princess, can’t make it tonight. Down with flu.


Suddenly my body is drained of all energy. I flop down onto the bed, staring blankly at the phone screen. All the earlier dread creeps back into me, slowly like a poisonous vine. He was my only hope.

The phone pings again.


I know you’re contemplating whether or not to ditch the party.
Go get ‘em girl!


And that’s all I need to hear.

I give my lips another coat of gloss, step into my stilettos, grab my purse and step into the chilly evening.

I could go right back in but I can’t, because I’ve got to go be corporate diva. It’s going to be a long night.




PS, This is yesterday’s Blogtember post. The prompt:

Creative writing day: write a (very short) fictional story that starts with this sentence: “To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century.”


PPS, This is my first attempt at fiction, let me know your thoughts in the comments below. 🙂


Image credit


Until next time,



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