The Working Girl Blog #14: Going out to lunch, or Being a girl means never having to pay To see all of Bobbie's "Working Girl" blogs, click on this link: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/19261/working-girl-blogs

I think I mentioned the guy in one of my earlier blogs - you know? That manager that started the whole standard documentation brouhaha? Well, he asked me to lunch today. Yeah, I know.

Well, I don't think I need to tell you that I wasn't inclined to go. But he goes and says that today would be his last day, and he wanted to apologize for any misunderstandings by taking me out to lunch. (My understanding was that his resignation wasn't effective until the end of the month, but it turned out that he took his last week as terminal leave.) What could I say to that, especially since I was talking with some of the team in the middle of my group's office area surrounded by people?

I looked around and caught the eye of my two team leads. I told him I had already made plans for lunch with some of the girls. (They looked at me and I looked back with an imploring look, and they giggled a little but didn't challenge my white lie.)

The guy seemed nonplussed at that, so he said to bring them along.

Well, long story short, the three of us were going out to lunch with him. The three of us trooped to the bathroom, fixed ourselves up, and grabbed our coats and purses.

We went to Buca di Beppo, which I told them meant something like Joe's Pit or Joe's Hole. Hey, gimme a break! There are very few times my being half Italian gets to be useful. (Truth is, though, I cannot speak the language at all, except for the odd word or two, but I ain't telling him that.) It looked like a Friday's type of place, but surprisingly it wasn't too crowded, and, thankfully, the music was turned off.

Going out to eat with other people as my girl self was still new enough for me that I was still a bit giggly about it all. And it is indeed a bit of a different experience, the largest difference being that men are more obsequious and deferential in a restaurant-type of situation. My chair being pulled out for me was still new, but not so new that I didn't jump, unlike the first few times I went out as a girl years ago. Being handed the menu first and getting to choose first was another perk. The three of us huddled together with the same menu and tried to pick what we wanted to eat.

The girls got baked rigatoni and I got a seafood linguine. Since I was eating linguine, I played safe and tucked my napkin under my collar. The girls giggled and I gave them a raspberry. Among Italians, bibs at the table are quite normal. Our waitress nodded (she might be Italian, too), smiled and gave me another napkin for my lap. The girls shared a light beer and I just stuck with diet Pepsi. I didn't hold my liquor well, even if it was just beer, so best to minimize. But all my good intentions flew out the window as we all had peach bellinis (yum!) with our meal.

In a burst of imagination (not!), the guy picked spaghetti and meatballs. We also shared a large loaf of garlic bread.

But I'm sure that you don't want a rundown of what we ate. Suffice it to say, it was a good meal, and I was more inclined to be friendlier to the guy.

Conversation was pleasant and light, and it was mostly about what the guy's plans were when he left. (I never noticed that guys liked to talk about themselves a lot. Or maybe I was being unfair, and it was only him...) Among other things, he said he wanted to travel for a bit before going back to work. (My mean brain thought he just couldn't find a job at the moment... I felt guilty for thinking that and chided myself for being so mean and cynical.)

The meal was leisurely and conversation was light. When the guy asked for the check, I didn't know whether or not to reach for my purse. The bill must have been close to a hundred, but the guy just handed his card over without batting an eye. One thing that I will always be happy about is that girls didn't pay for meals if they didn't want to. Heehee. I can imagine that, if I was the guy, I might resent having to pay alone, but clearly, he was out to impress us, or maybe just me. When we went to the bathroom, the girls weren't sure but they said the guy may like me. Well, I said I didn't like him. I knew I was being catty, and the girls said so. In this war of the sexes, which I barely knew the rules of, I had a glimpse of the basic reasons of this treating-girls-out thing. Or was I just being unfairly stubborn, or maybe because I wasn't a real girl, I wasn't really understanding the nuances of these things. Hmmm. Ponder ponder.

Anyways, we went back to the office, and we thanked him for a nice lunch, and everything went back to the normal routine.

At the end of the day, and everyone was getting ready to go (Friday, you know), the guy passed by my office and said goodbye. I gave him a professional handshake and wished him luck. I was surprised when he leaned down to give me a small peck on the cheek, and said good luck, too, and that he would miss me. Eh? I only met him once before, and that wasn't the most pleasant of meetings. What did this mean, or was this something normal? Guess I don't really know much about how these things worked yet.

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For Bobbie's stories in BCTS, click this link: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/14775/roberta-j-cabot