Can I get an Ice Water with a splash of Goose?

Last Friday I attended a Stanford Social that requested the elite presence of alumni and their Ivy League friend's. I was originally asked to take the ticket of a woman I had just met at synagogue who couldn't go and meet up with her friend, but the ticket was given away to someone else. Having already convinced myself that this event would be a great networking opportunity and maybe a chance to earn the MRS degree I never received from Denison, I bought myself a ticket and arranged to meet up with the two girls whom I had never met before. Dressed in a sleek and bright cocktail dress, I rode the cable car up Powell Street and hung out the back end to stare down the repetitive hills.
I clutched my cousin's little black purse and smiled at the romantic scene before me. I jumped off the car at the 800 block and walked into the University Club where Carol and Jenna were waiting. After introducing myself and finding my nametag, we climbed the pretentious mahogany stairs and entered a trio of event rooms with a large wall of windows highlighting the downtown skyline.

Carol, Jenna and I were immediately disheartened but for seriously different reasons. I chalk this up to our difference in age, Carol and Jenna 29 and 30 respectively, to my 22 and 2/3. While the girls quickly scanned the room for male potential, only to find an overwhelming number of women similar in age, I quickly scanned the room for the table selling drink tickets, only to find prices too steep for my tolerance. They hit the bar and I hit the floor. Apparently they felt they needed drinks to mitigate their loss (the fact that they would have to do some serious pouncing to beat the gender odds) and I felt I needed to get my game on to fill the void in my empty cocktail hand.

So we did a lap. In college we called this "walking" which I am sure everyone has seen happen before. Ever notice a group of women (usually 3 or 4) walking around a room in formation? They seem to be surveying the crowd and funnily enough, they are! So we took a lap, keeping an eye out for men to pursue and when we got back to our post, planed our course of action. Carol and Jenna with their wealth of experience at these shin digs had three things to say. One, I was going to be much more successful then they because I was so young and the rest of the women were in their late 20s or 30s. Two, the pool of young men were slim which further decreased their success rate. Three, one day I would get used to chec

king out the wedding finger before the rest of the person. Oh no.

And then I pointed out a tall drink of water who appeared to be in his late twenties and suggested the girls go talk to him! Getting excited, they gulped their wine and quickly discussed their plan of attack. How would they start? What would they say? I was a little excited for them because, who doesn't like the chase? But I was also getting antsy because after all, shouldn't they be used to this game by now? "Let's just walk over to him and maybe he'll turn around" Carol suggested. So we got in formation and walked towards the young man who was standing with some friends. I was in the back of the line, with my head turned to stare at the invisible line of embarrassment we trailed, three paces behind in case anyone was looking at our ridiculousness. We stood behind this guy as he talked with some friends and Carol and Jenna gave each other the eye nudge, simply communicating, "You do it!" "No you do it!" "Just do

it!" And before you knew it mystery man was walking away. Carol's face fell.

I picked up the pieces. "No guys listen, this is great! Now he's by himself so you can just walk up to him and say hi!" Puzzled by my innovation, Jenna fell behind Carol and they walked towards the guy, who not seeing them approach, proceeded to walk into the other room. Undeterred, Carol and Jenna followed him and knowing I couldn't survive this segment of the chase without completely losing it, hung back to collect my giggles. A few deep breaths later, I decided to check in on the girls and see how they were getting on with mystery man. I walked into the other room and saw the guy still standing by himself. Confused, I turned my head to look for Jenna and Carol and found them at the bar staring at him. I know rolling your eyes is considered rude, but I did it anyway and marched up to the guy.

"Hi," I smiled; "I'm Madelei

ne" I stuck out my hand.

"Mike," he responded and smiled and began talking. Nice funny guy, good conversation...we found out we were both gatecrashers and had not even applied to the ivy leagues. I looked toward the bar at the girls who wide eyed, gave me the thumbs up sign. I turned back to Mike and smiled in apology/mischief fully knowing what was about to happen; Carol and Jenna were at my side in a hot second and as I introduced the two to Mike, they proceeded to run through the obligatory, "so what do you do?" questions. Before they got into it, I excused myself to go find some...ice water...and bailed. I spent the next half hour talking non-profits with another gatecrasher and ran into Justin, a Googler I had met the week before.

But the fun was just beginning. A large red faced man with white surfer hair and a white jacket told me that he really liked my dress to which I responded “I like your white coat” because it seemed chill Ivy and I could do with some personality in this joint. He was one of a few older men I conversed with over the period of the night and I don’t know what it is, but everyone wanted

to give me career advice. This one, Robert, was the president of a financial group and told me to go back and get an MBA. According to him, it’s the only way for me to be successful. We talked about it for about a half hour too long and again I excused myself to get…more ice water…

But escaping wasn’t so easy. As soon as I turned my back, Robert’s tone switched and instead of giving more advice, he started to speak motivation. He told me not to worry; that I would be very successful. I had the personality, I was great to talk too, I was really cute and I would have no problem getting a job. Also according to Robert, 50% is looks, 20% is attitude, 20% is passion, and 10% is knowledge. I have not a clue in hell how he managed to be president with that math (and frankly, the bright red face from double fisting cocktails) but he kept going and I continued to politely nod my head along with his compliments. I would find something soon. (nod yes) I was on my way to great things. (nod yes) I’d have no problem meeting people (nod yes) because I was friendly (yes) and cute (yes thank you) and I’d have a lot of men (here’s hopping) and a lot of boyfriends (he said it) and the real question I had to ask myself was weather or not I was interested in older men.

Ohhh what!?!

My head snapped up and the eyebrow lifted and I looked him in the eye and said, “oh I’ve answered that question. And the answer is, when I’m an older woman

I’ll be interested in older men.” Robert smiled a bit sheepishly and I really did leave then to get my ice water. The nerve right!?

I walked outside on the balcony for fresh air, took a picture of the beautiful skyscrapers surrounding the trans America building, and soaked up some more advice from another president of some other company (I forgot which one and no he’s not hiring) who tol

d me to find my secret skill. At this point I was getting tired of the career banter so I left the soul-searching therapy session and walk

ed downstairs to listen to the live band. Boppin’ my head to the music, a very tall lanky creeper with a side smile similar to the Simpson’s Montgomery Burns approached me. ‘Ohh here we go’ I thought.

I looked up and listened to the man (forget his name, let’s call him Monty) explain that he saw me by myself and that a girl like me shouldn’t be alone and then the career advice came. I tuned this guy out and smiled while I watched the band. Ok, fine…I paid a little attention but only because I feel bad being rude. So I engaged in a half assed conversation and then excused myself to go upstairs and get some more ice water. I was getting really cold with all the ice I’d been munching on and the girls had left long ago with crushed souls. Apparently their Mike bailed when I left to get ice water and their egos shot, they took each other out for dinner in the Marina district, otherwise known as the yuppie triangle.

When I got upstairs, Monty was suddenly in front of me asking if I wanted to go outside to the deck. Explaining that I had already been outside but that he really should take a look because the view was exceptional, he said ok and that he would be back and we would go downstairs and dance. As he walked away I smiled and kept my eye on the balcony door. As soon as I saw him come back inside and look for me, I hopped to and scampered into the next room. There were three adjoined on the top level and two on the bottom. I saw my Googler friend Justin and with fervor I explained to him the situation I was trying to avoid. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Monty enter the most recent threshold and bidding Justin goodbye, I booked it to room three. Looking around for a saving grace/fire escape I was literally spinning in circles. And there Monty was again! Smiling at me. Walking towards me! Forget it, I thought. This is so not worth it. I am not going to run from room to room to escape this dude. I’ve had enough of this Ivy League shit and I’m going home. At full gate, I walked out the final room and down the stairs to leave. I hit the bathroom first and as I was shoving my arms into the sleeves of my jacket I spotted two shoes right in front of me. I slowly looked up and saw Monty.

“Madeleine! Where are you going?”

“Oh” I smiled “I’m going home!”

“What about our dance?” he looked concerned. I can’t believe he didn’t recognize a woman at full run.

“Sorry. I’m leaving.”

“Well do you have a card so I can contact you?” Fuck no! I thought. I mean, yes I did have cards. I was prepared. But no way I was giving my number to this one.

“I don’t, sorry!” I really did look genuinely sorry. “I don’t have a job so, naturally no card!” Makes sense right?

“Well, what if I have a job opportunity for you? How should I contact you?” Shit.

“Oh, you know what?” feign surprise “I think I do have a card. Wait a second…” fishing around for a card. “Look at that! So, if you hear of anything, you can let me know!” This baiting might pan out after all. He looked over my card and found my scribbled e-mail and number.

“Ok, so I’ll call you if I hear of a job and, what about socially?” shit. Ice water? Ice water?

“No, not socially.” I warned, “I’m just looking for a job. Nothing social.” It was too late to take my card back and I blame falling into the trap all on the fact that I was suffering permanent brain freeze from the amount of ice water I consumed.

The Ivy League so ain’t not for me. Benumbed, I left university club for a dive bar downtown to meet a Denison friend for real drinks and the ice melted.