Long days.

Exhausted. A full 11 1/2 hour day working a client event. Smiling pretty, in heels, making small talk. Balancing a plate of shrimp cocktail and a peach bellini. Remembering that if a guy seems to be staring at my breasts, it's really just my nametag, which has mysteriously slipped down my lapel. Oh, wait. My nametag is still on my jacket which I've draped over a chair. (Is it hot in here or is it me?) I guess he's staring at my breasts after all.