the coatcheck girl at OgilvyOne

if you'd been there last night
the grand opening
of the san francisco office
of the world-famous ad agency
you'd have had your selection
of impeccable hors d'oeuvres,
free drinks, a karaoke machine
and a chance to rub shoulders with the mayor.
if you'd been there
you'd have seen all the hand-pressing
and the "you must meet"s
and the "have you seen"s
and the speed with which guests,
after a deliberately conservative first drink,
downed their second.

if you'd been there
you'd have seen me too.
i was
the coatcheck girl
for just this night
wearing a strange blank smile
and an ill-fitting company logo t-shirt and
feeling the furthest from home
amongst these streamlined, shiny-haired ad people,
wishing i could have come in a long
black dress, wishing
i was crazy enough
to ask the vp for a job, wishing
i could make use
of the free cosmopolitans.

if you'd been there
i would have asked
if I could take your jacket
or hold onto your briefcase.
i would have directed you
to the cheese table, the bar, the restroom.
you might have given me your empty glass
before you left for the night.

for a brief, stunningly unambitious moment
i was the coatcheck girl at OgilvyOne.
a writer
in her off-hours.