Name Tag

Pretending to be someone else was tiring, especially for an entire weekend. There had been workshops each day, a keynote speech, two loud parties, a pop music variety show, and one flirty dinner. There had been interludes between events, but Penny had not managed to get away to her hotel room for more than minimum sleep. Come Sunday she was craving some down-time.

Why she’d agreed to play the part of her boss, Marjorie, at this marketing convention was the question. Wanting to please in hopes of a career-related reward would be an understandable motive, but fear of being considered uncooperative was a better description. Actually, she’d had a pretty good time despite wearing a name tag that didn’t match who she was. She’d taken notes, taken pictures, taken names, and taken a good look around.

She had to admit that the dinner with Matthew, the sales rep from Purple Plum, had been more than nice. Apparently he’d been emailing briefly with Marjorie professionally, did not know what Marjorie looked like, saw the name tag, and consequences unfolded. Penny became a more Penny-like version of Marjorie, especially after the wine, combining Marjorie’s facts with her own fantasies. There had been a kiss. There had not been an invitation to her room or his, but there had been feelings. Her always-positive inner voice whispered approval as she fell asleep contemplating her sweet Saturday-night date.

Soon after waking on Sunday, Penny packed, decided to skip the free breakfast, and was getting into a cab in front of the hotel when Matthew appeared with a single red rose. “Marjorie! I was afraid I’d missed you!” He handed her the flower, grinning, a swath of brown hair falling over one eye. That eye might have winked. “It’s been a long weekend, I know. I’ll be in touch!” He turned and loped back into the hotel toward the breakfast. Penny was pleased, but, as Matthew apparently knew, a cab was a cab.

The Amtrak from New York to Boston was half-empty, very pleasant. Bits of dreaminess came and went, the rose resting in her lap. Once in her apartment, sound sleep took her over. Penny slept through the evening and into the night. When morning came, she was still in bed. Her phone rang. “Penny! What happened with Matthew Flint?” Marjorie’s voice was high, fast.

Penny had to think for a moment but that didn’t get her very far. “You told me I could take the morning off, Marjorie,” she said sleepily.

“He emailed me. He thinks he’s in love with me! I’ve never met him!”

“But you have, Marjorie. I was wearing your name tag. I thought you wanted me to be YOU this weekend. I did my best.”

“Penny, I asked you to go in my stead. You weren’t supposed to pretend to BE me!”

“This can be easily straightened out, Marjorie,” Penny said. “I’ll be in soon! Bye!” Oh, no no no! she thought, haphazardly pulling at her pillow one way, then the other. I’m an idiot! This time her positive inner voice remained silent.

— Macoff