Meeting the Ambassador

Last week was my second full week in the office.  On Wednesday, the Consular Section had a scheduled Admin Day.  During our staff meeting on Tuesday, I asked about the dress code and my boss answered - "No Hawaiian shirts, but casual."  As I had seen some of our local staff wearing jeans the previous Thursday (last day of work week here), I went ahead and wore jeans.  While none of the other officers were wearing suits, I was the only one not wearing dress slacks.  Duly noted.

Other than this minor hiccup, the morning was going well, when at 1030, Outlook pops up a reminder about my meet-and-greet meeting with the Ambassador.  I hadn't met the Ambassador yet and all I had really heard about him was that he hated tardiness and could be a bit formal.  I had a meeting in 15 minutes AND I WAS WEARING JEANS.  Shit.  After a minute of panic, I eliminated Plan A (run home and change) because there wasn't enough time.  I went and asked a colleague what he thought I should do.  Plan B - push or cancel meeting.  I called up to the Front Office, and asked his staff assistant if I could move the meeting as I was having a little crisis down in the Consular Section (I did not mention that said crisis was that I was wearing jeans).  She hesitated and passed me to his secretary who said she could ask, but that he would definitely ask questions about what caused me to miss the meeting.  Strike Plan B.

I am now 9 minutes away from my meeting and needing a Plan C.  My colleague had offered me his shirt and tie so, I stood up in the NIV officer bullpen and said to my staff - "What I am about to ask comes from a colleague and not a boss - please feel no pressure, but does anyone wear a size 34 or 36 pant?"  One of the ELOs said he did and the two of us made our way to the bathroom to switch pants (6 minutes left).  On the way back, I stop by the first guy's office and get his shirt and tie.  Two other colleagues, now fully vested in my saga, offer me sports coats they keep at work.  A blue blazer sort of fits, and I make my way to the Ambassador's office a full two-minutes early.  Amazingly, the outfit actually looked good and the meeting went off without a hitch.

Fortunately, Plan C worked because Plan D was go home sick and Plan E was pull the fire-alarm.