Last night I had to get up in front of an auditorium full of parents and explain why I would be the best candidate for a position on the school's governing board.
Why do I want to be on a boring ol' school committee? Because I'm interested in my child's education. Because I feel a civic responsibility to volunteer where I'm needed. Because I'm very good at it.
And maybe, just maybe, because it gives me a couple of hours out once a month where I can be around only adults and discuss something other than preschool television.
I had some great b.s. lined up in my noggin to say up in front of all those people and forgot at least half of it while I was up there. While I'm not generally nervous about public speaking, I'm positively terrified of rejection. I nominated myself because there were four positions available and only three people had been nominated. However, being the trend setter that I am, two more people wanted to jump on board after I did. That meant we were in for an actual election and that two people wouldn't be sitting around the table once a month with everyone else.
Therefore, when I got up and started doing my thing, I choked; I don't know if I appeared to, but I most certainly did. It's not like I had a lot of time to prepare a speech, you know? There wasn't supposed to be a speech because there wasn't going to be a need for one until those people started nominating themselves. Those people threw my groove off. How dare they put me in a position where I might not win by default?
When they came back in to announce the results, I was extremely nervous. I kept wondering how I was going to feel if I didn't get elected. I was up against people with education and experience that would make them prime candidates for the board. What did I have? A previous year on the board and a bit of experience I forgot to mention - I choked, remember? - coupled only with my good looks and incredible charm. It wasn't going to be enough. I was sure of it.
The first three elected officials were named and there was only one spot left. I was now up against a high school math teacher and a mom who seems to volunteer at the school way more than I do.
I wondered how I was going to walk out of there with my head up when this was all over. I knew so many people in that room it was insane. And I'd always ask myself who didn't vote for me. Those bastards.
***
Rejection sucks. In the days before I rose to this level of popularity I had been rejected more times than I can possibly count. To give a few examples:
- My best friend in elementary school used to threaten to find new friends all the time so I would buy her off with cards full of money because I didn't have any other kids to play with
- I've been told 'I'll play with you, but not at school because I don't want people to make fun of me' (and sadly still played with these kids after school because I had no self-respect)
- My friend asked the cute boy in our grade if he would dance with me and he laughed
- My boyfriend left me for my best friend (who laughed in his face when he declared his love, mind you, but that's not the point)
- Incidentally, I have never dumped anyone - I've only been dumped. How does that saying go: Always the dumpee, never the dumper?
The worst part of having a fear of being excluded is knowing, at the ripe old age of 33, that I'm blowing things out of proportion. I go through a lot of emotional turmoil over not being invited to a get-together even when I don't - and can't possibly - invite absolutely everyone to everything I host, either. Logistically I know I'm not being excluded because I suck, but those old tapes play over and over telling me that I'm forever going to be the loser and that this is one more example of that.
I need to replace that outdated tape deck with an iPod of positivity. iPositive?
Okay, that was lame. I deserve some serious rejection after that.
***
So, when I was sitting there last night looking cool and collected in my cute hairband and perfect metallic grey shoes, I was inwardly a complete spaz. Normally I'm outwardly a complete spaz, but I was trying to appear graceful as I prepared to walk the hall of shame.
"And our last elected official is The Maven," said the head of the committee.
Obviously. I thought to myself. Like there was ever any doubt?
(The good news is that I bounce back quickly, in case that wasn't apparent.)
I then proceeded to politely smile and wave as people clapped for me, trying not to think of the fact that I was the last name on that list and very likely received the least amount of votes of all the elected officials. I won't know if that's true because I never asked for confirmation. I chose to ignore it and bask in my political winnings.
I so rocked that vote.