Apparently, I am on The List...and it Feels Pretty Good...

People who know me know that I am a big goofball. I love my childish things, and I love toys (both big boy and small kid) to the point where I have waaaay too many action figures in my collection and a lot of electronics to boot. I love to cook and bake, I love excellent wine and wine tastings, but I am never above a rousing game of Rock Band or a viewing of Futurama. Things being what they are, it is no surprise that people who are my friends see me in a certain way, a persona that is veerrry different from that which is my face in the working world.

At work, I cease being Artful and I become DR. BLOGGER. I refrain from speaking in Yoda's voice and do everything with purpose and confidence. I write briefs, answer patent examiners questions, confer with inventors and in-house counsel on a daily basis, lunch with partners, and interact with the staff on a boss-employee level (but always with respect, as the Artful Mom taught me). Somewhere between my condo filled with plastic electronic drum kits and the 32nd floor of the high rise where my office sits, with a view of downtown Chicago towards the lake, I transform from Artful to Dr. Blogger. I don't know what it is, but Dr. Blogger gets a lot more respect from people where Artful would not even get a second glance. Doors open, people respond, and things that I ask for get done.

Of course, it is strange to think that all of this is true. I am always the same person. That is fundamental and does not change. What changes is the public face because unfortunately, in the working world, such a demeanor is necessary to be taken seriously. There are, however, people who view Dr. Blogger in ways that they would never view poor, hapless Artful, so neatly personified in my Opus icon.

What do I mean? Well, this weekend I was dining with a few work colleagues. I had judged a legal competition, and we had decided to grab some food afterward. I hardly ever hang out with coworkers, so this was a welcome treat for me. So there we were, a male coworker and a female coworker and I, sitting down to dinner and wine. After a couple of hours, a few courses and a LOT of wine, the conversations became a little more...a...open. I, of course, was pretty sober. My coworkers...not so much. We started talking about the office and the people therein, as many coworkers do when they are out and about. I wondered aloud how people thought of me and expressed my fervent hope that I was not viewed as some kind of a-hole. The female co-worker rapidly disavowed me of that notion and, simultaneously, made my year.

Female co-worker: "Artful, really, you have nothing to worried about. Everyone at the firm really likes you."

Artful: "I don't buy that. I don't know everyone at the firm."

FCW: "Well, they know you or at least, they know OF you."

Artful: "Ooookaay-what the heck does that mean?"

FCW (after 6 glasses of Riesling, mind you): "Well come ON, Artful. You KNOW that you are on THE LIST!!!"

Artful: ". . . . . "

FCW: "You KNOW-THE LIST!" (pause) "Oh....maybe I should not say anything else..."

Artful (thinking that it is something bad now): "No, no...I can take it. Am I on the list of office a-holes?"

FCW: "Hardly-see, sometimes the female attorneys and some of the female staff get together for drinks and we discuss things, and we made a list of..."

Artful (thinking the suspense unbearable): "OF WHAT???"

FCW: "of the male attorneys we want to get into bed with."

Silence around the table. FCW rapidly blushes and turns beet red. I, on the other hand, immediately get a giant grin on my face. Hot damn...maybe there IS something to the whole confidence thing after all. I mean, I would never act on it, but it is damn flattering to be objectified in THAT way after toiling way in the kingdom of the nerds for so long.

The silence was broken by male co-worker

MCW: "So how many people are on the list?"

FCW (now choosing her words carefully): "Ten"

MCW: "And where, exactly, is Artful?"

FCW: "Oh...umm...top 5." At this point, I was doing the Snoopy dance in my head-once again, not because I would ever act on it but because people considered me that attractive when I am in business mode.

MCW: "Where am I on the list?"

FCW: "Oooo...ummm...you aren't."

Would it be wrong to say that that statement made me even happier? Yes, sometimes, I can be that shallow. In the end, I recognize it for what it was. The Artful who plays video games and sits around in jeans and a sweatshirt was not the object of affection; it was Dr. Blogger, the professional patent attorney who is strong and forceful and gets things done.

But which one is the real me?