Hi all,
networking, eh? Here’s a short story about that. And Sex and the City. Enjoy!
‘Hello. My name is— ’
Busy. Face looked familiar. Television? That ad? The loud one, where he shouts not to be a fool, invest with him?
I read a tip: if you’re in a room full of people and just standing against the wall, then go up to someone else standing at the wall and introduce yourself.
What’s Plan B if you’re the only one against the wall?
Ha! They’ll shoot me first when the revolution comes! As I’m already up against the wall. Ha.
I’m drinking water. I need coffee but what if it makes my breath bad and someone comes over? Coffee on a nervous stomach isn’t a good idea anyway. Makes me gassy.
I see Loud Man is a backslapper, whacking meat left and right.
Glad I was able to get rid of him. Ha.
I’m going for a walk. Maybe someone will say something as I pass and I can chime in. Come on! Somebody talk about Sex and the City! Series or film, I don’t mind.
My collar is itchy because I’m stressed, it makes my skin sensitive. But if I start scratching I won’t be able to stop.
What are they all talking about? I don’t know the names. I don’t recognise the subject.
I’ll hang around the refreshments table, people always need refreshments.
Hey you’re drinking water? Me too, hello! My name is—
Nobody comes over. Surely nobody knows who I am?
There’s someone coming.
‘Hi there!’ I stick my hand out. She shakes it, but it’s slippery. Her hand slips out of mine. ‘Juice?’ I say, looking at her glass. She shakes her head. ‘I’m—’ She’s gone, holding a finger up to signal she’ll be back. She won’t be.
Perfect place for a serial killer this. It’s impossible to give away your identity. Ha. The clock on the wall doesn’t seem to have moved at all. I give myself five minutes to talk to someone. If I can tell them my name that’ll count, okay? I move back to my wall, go the other way around to listen in.
Pass Mr Loud. And slap him on the back. It’s not a good slap, timid. But it gets his attention. He turns. There’s a split second when he can see me. And already his eyes are glazing over.
I slap him again. The people he’s with are all staring at me. Nobody slaps the Big Man, right? I have one second to do it.
‘Hello.’ My voice is calm and I’m not squeaking or quavering. ‘My name is Worm. I Am Death. Happy to meet you. Take your time, I’ll be waiting.’
There’s a hush around the room. I hear mobile phones buzzing in pockets.
‘So,’ I say. ‘Sex and the City. Who’s your fave character?’
I used to do a lot of networking, hopefully that comes across in the story (and the tips are useful?). But I’m not a Sex and the City fan. That’s where it becomes fiction…
Want more? Click here or check out the tag cloud at the bottom of the page
