Why, O Why?

What is it that makes an otherwise smart and capable woman (i.e. me) make a complete fool of myself in the presence of somebody I want to impress badly? Be it a boss or a potential crush or even just an old rival from high school. I mean, doesn't it make sense that you would be equipped with more grace, wit and common sense than usual given the special circumstances?

This is why I believe and will continue to believe that Somebody-Up-There has a wicked sense of humor. Somehow it seems that He takes every last vestige of your intelligence away and replaces you with an idiotic, clumsy, stuttering fool in the five minutes that you desperately wanted to make an impact on somebody.

For instance, I don't have an opportunity to talk with my boss's boss very often. He is someone who is a firm believer of hierarchy. Naturally, during the rare occasions that I do interact with him, I would want him to have a first-rate impression of me. But true to word, he catches me wearing jeans on the one single day out of the other 364 days that I decide not to wear jeans. Not only that, I also ended up basically shoving his authority to his face by telling him that somebody higher than him says we can wear jeans that day. . . I mean, how much more suicidal can you get in terms of your career? I can probably kiss my dreams of being promoted good-bye.

Let me give another concrete example. By some stroke of luck, I have had the chance to have lunch with AND sit next to somebody who shall we say, I wouldn't mind dating in the near future. During the short lunch hour while eating barbeque, I transformed from an interesting person into a stare-at-your-own-rice-and-do-not-stop-eating kind of robot. I literally couldn't form a coherent conversation with him. This is quite amusing, especially since I regularly give project updates and bad news to roomful of section managers and associate directors, from different parts of the world. What, normal conversation about weather is tougher than project management stuff???

Let me assure you, the rest of the time, I am actually quite normal. Meaning I can hold an interesting conversation with you and not make you check your watch all the time. I can be counted on to represent the group in global meetings, without messing up the facts. Heck, I manage 6 direct reports, for goodness' sake. I am a capable person. Honestly. I am. I am.

I guess there are are just some days that you get struck by some inexplicable psychological and mental malady that you just can't help but transform into somebody you wouldn't even trust a simple task with.

I just hope that Somebody-Up-There's wacky humor does not strike again soon. Or else the wall will experience more head-banging soon.