Out of My League


I am two hours away from going to a networking event with nine other people, all of whom are more accomplished, have fancier titles and submitted an actual professional head shot for the “look book.”

I’m in nonprofit, and this is not something I typically participate in.

But when my boss forwarded the invitation, I thought free drinks and dinner sounded like a fine way to do something work related on a Wednesday evening.

Fast forward to today, when the organizer sent the look book, where I am the only one with less than five paragraphs in my bio.

We are having this informal meeting in a round table form at a fancy steakhouse I’ve never heard of near the West Loop.

I had to buy heels because I don’t own any.

I’m sure I’ll be the only one taking the Pink Line to get there.

I hope I don’t drink too much to quiet the nervousness.

I am Tess McGill, an unpolished Working Girl, hoping I can fool these bigwigs into thinking I have something valuable to add to the conversation.

Needless to say, I’ve been stress eating all day and will now have to suck my stomach in all night so my dress fits.

It’s good times over here. Truly.

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