This was written December 10th, 2014, (and said incident happened about 8 years prior) but quite frankly, it’s message is evergreen: Be advised youths, you’ve always been, and always will be, dead wrong about almost everything. #MayTheOddsEverBeInYourFavor #GratefulCameraPhonesWerentAroundInMyTwenties
So, having recently recovered from a very violent and demoralizing stomach flu, I can now fit into some of my smaller clothes.
While pilfering through dusty bins from pre-Max days, I came across this shameful reminder of my twenties.
I only share this story so that, you too, can share and warn the Millenials that, basically, every instinct they have is wrong.
About 8 years ago, I was working in sales for a hotel, and we had our annual conference. Because our team was really close, the girls opted to have a slumber party in one of our rooms.
I was told to throw on my pjs and make my way to Claudia Monks room. Which I did. In this. (pictured here) My nightgown, obviously.
Yes, it was vampy red, fairly short, and trimmed with slutty black lace, but I was young and I had found it in the nightgown section in Marshalls, so…totally appropriate.
Well, upon entering, Dawna Bryant Calderon immediately informed me that this was, indeed, a negligee. Claudia, still reeling from the shock of my fashion choice, agreed with Dawna. “Mija- that is lingerie!!! Con-yo. (I type that phonetically because I can’t seem to find the word in google- I think she made it up anyways…)
“Both of these women are just old,” I told myself. This is TOTALLY a nightgown.
So, we slept….and overslept- it was already 5:30AM! Rushing out the door, we bolted for our rooms.
It was around this time that I realized I hadn’t remembered to bring my room key.
Because I was pretty hammered the night before, I now could not recall anyone’s room number.
Tick tock tick tock- I had about 30 minutes to figure this shit out, shower and be downstairs.
SO, I crept to the elevator bank, and picked up the phone. I was about to make a bellman’s best night ever. ‘I’m locked out, please send someone up!’
Then I waited.
I should probably mention, at this point, that I didn’t see any reason to pack any comfy shoes for this trip, so I was wearing my 3 inch black pumps…in my totally appropriate nightgown. What?
About five agonizing minutes later the bellman, who looked no older than 18, made his way down the hall. By the widening of his eyes and redness filling his cheeks, I began to rethink my fashion choice.
I almost immediately start word vomiting: “It’s a nightgown, my legs are just really long, that’s why it looks so short…and I was sleeping in my co-workers room…WHO IS ALSO A GIRL…I mean, a friend, she’s my friend, well there were three of us (HOLY MOTHER OF GOD why am I still talking?!?!)
‘Sure’ he replied, with the uncomfortable heaving sigh, assuming he discovered my ‘evening job’.
As he cracks open my door, and I turn to thank him, who walks by? Our Regional Director of Sales…
“It’s a nightgown” I mutter, and shut the door.
My boss would later inform me that we should all just keep to our own rooms at night.
And I live with the shame…forever. FOREVER.
Makrosmic 