“Do you need help finding something? I have a map.”
“Of course you do,” he mutters.
“You don’t have to be rude,” I say before I can stop myself. I might be nice and bubbly, but I also don’t take crap from people. “If you didn’t want to take a picture, you didn’t have to. You could have said not right now and kept walking.”
His sharp blue eyes bore into me, an intimidation tactic I’m sure works in the boardroom, but I’m used to the signature boss man look. I’ve dealt with my fair share of “intimidating” businessmen so to me, it’s the same stare, a different day.
“You bothered me, not the other way around. I don’t need your attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude; you do,” I shoot back, hands on my hips. “I just wanted to commemorate this moment and you’re ruining it.”
“You’re at a goddamn office supply convention, what’s there to commemorate?”
“Everything.” I wave my hands to the side. “Don’t you feel the excitement buzzing in the air? This is the mecca of all pens and paper. Products like the erasable pen were first found here, and whiteout tape . . . don’t even get me started.”
He blinks.
Stares.
Blinks.
Finally. “You’re deranged.”
Insulted, my eyes widen as I clutch my hand to my chest. “You’re offensive.” Standing tall, I take a step forward and poke the man in the chest.
Poke.
Flex.
Poke.
Yowser. That’s a strong pectoral.
Shaking my finger out, I continue, “Just because you seem to have a small-minded brain and rotten heart, doesn’t mean you need to extract the joy out of everyone else’s life. If everyone here is so beneath you, why even come in the first place? We don’t want your negativity bringing down the pure excitement of this day.”
“So you’re the spokeswoman now for the convention?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“As a matter of fact”—I cross my arms too—“I am.” I hold my hand out. “Gwendolyn Havershire.”
I know it’s stupid to pretend to be someone else, let alone the queen bee of the office supply convention, but is this suit really going to know who she is? He clearly doesn’t want to be here, so I’m sure he has no idea the organizer of the convention is none other than the beautifully wonderful and highly organized Gwendolyn Havershire.
Anyway, he needs to be put in his place, and I’m ready to take on the task.
He stares at my hand but doesn’t take it. Instead, he looks at me, his brows narrowing.
“You’re telling me, you organized this entire thing?”
I smoothly take my hand away and stuff it into my pocket. “Yes, I am. So, if you don’t mind, we would prefer for only excited people to be here.” I point to the doors behind us. “I’m sure you know your way out.”
“As much as I would love to leave, Gwendolyn, I have a very important meeting to attend and you’ve delayed me.”
“You delayed yourself by arguing with me.”
“You shouldn’t have asked me to take a picture.”
My voice rises. “Well, excuse me for thinking there are decent people in this world who will take a second of their day to help capture a moment for another human being.” My breathing starts to become labored. “Heaven forbid you ever need a favor or someone to lend a hand. I hope they don’t treat you the same way you treated me, like a giant . . . turd nugget.”
He doesn’t react. The only reason I know he’s surprised is the small, rapid blinking of his eyes.
“Are you . . . are you calling me a turd nugget? The dignified Gwendolyn Havershire is calling me, a turd nugget?”
“Well”—I brush my hand down my pants—“we all have our low moments. Now, if you’ll excuse me, since I’m the head of this convention, I have more important things to do than to stand around arguing with a peon.”
“A peon?” The corner of his mouth twitches, but I don’t see the rest of that possible smile before I take off, leaving him in my dust.
Self-righteous turd nugget.
Pffft. It’s men like him who think they run the world when it’s really the people behind them who are pulling all the strings.
“Well, at least I have my picture,” I say to myself as I post it to my Instagram feed with some very flavorful hashtags.
#ConventionCommemoration
#PenMeccaMadness
#BeStillMyOrganizationalHeart
Pleased and attempting to move past Mr. Moody Pants, I keep my phone close in case I need to take any more pictures and walk through the arch into office supply heaven.
Booths displaying the latest and greatest printers, paper, pens, planners, chairs, desks, pretty much anything you see in an office, are scattered through the large convention center giving me an overwhelming sense of excitement.
I open my map and scan my highlighted sections. Since I don’t need to look at the printers and computers, I avoid that section and head straight to the planners.
I’m a sucker for a planner.
Planners and notebooks.
Planners with stickers!
And pens. Oh my goodness, let’s not forget about pens.
Or Post-it notes.
Oh God, I need to catch my breath. Just thinking about all the different kinds of Post-its I might see today has my pulse racing at an uncomfortable rate.
Circles, and squares, and hearts, and cat shapes, and maybe a cactus, because the cacti of the world are trending right now.
Whoa . . . I feel lightheaded.
Settle down, deep breaths. You have the entire day to explore and an empty backpack for the swag you’ll pick up along the way.
The last convention I went to, I brought a wheelie cart to haul my most prized possessions, but I got in trouble for having one because apparently in a crowded space, they don’t want people tripping over wheelie carts.
So this go around, I decided to keep it simple, not go too crazy on free samples, and to only take what I absolutely needed. The bare essentials.
And since I’m between jobs at the moment, I have business cards for prospective employers I might run into and I have an envelope of cash, to control the amount of money I spend.
My last company was bought out in a merger. I received a very nice severance package that has lasted me six months—my old boss loved me—but with my severance dwindling at a rapid rate—thank you, NYC rent—I need to be conservative and find a job soon. That’s why I decided on a set amount for today that will give me some freedom, but not too much where I’m regretting my decisions later.
I follow the map around the kitchen supply area, which piques my interest because I can smell free coffee, but I’ll catch up with those booths later. I want to make sure I get to the Daisy and Dot booth first.
Daisy and Dot has the best planners you will ever use. Efficient, task oriented, with stickers and fun clips to hold down important items, they’re the only planner I ever want to use, and they have a new prototype out today.
God, I know, how exciting.
I blow past a few suits, my agenda simple: get the planner then peruse.
I can see their canary-yellow and white polka-dot branding, with their cute cursive font, and I make a beeline, eyes fixed up ahead—