In the same boat

It wasn’t the right kind of hat,
She didn’t have the right kind of face,
Her nose had already turned red and she hadn’t even had a sip of the Pimm’s fruit cup she’d been give,
The charity shop dress was the right length, but that was its only redeeming feature,
It only just scraped by as ‘fit for purpose’.

In fact she was even less ‘fit for purpose’,
Unlike the men in their navy blazers, spotless white jackets and jaunty boaters,
They fitted image of business people who were invited because of their status in the business hierarchy,
Whereas she was the token worker from a lower order,
Quite simply nothing more than a glorified secretary,
Selected at random by computer,
She was unable to refuse the outing.

It was already hot and stifling in the hospitality tent,
She decided to escape from the smorgasbord of faces she only recognised as names on her computer screen.

Outside was a world filled with young rowers, energy, determination and excitement.

In the same boat

The oars sliced through the choppy water,
The Thames became a battlefield with the spoils of heated competition going to the fittest and fastest,
The eights worked in perfect synchronicity,
Cheering spectators applauded their accomplishments, but did not appreciate the effort and hours of dedicated training that had brought them to their peak of rowing perfection.

The rowers were no longer individuals, but part of a team,
No one noticed their flushed faces or the perspiration cascading down their faces,
They were as anonymous as she was in the business universe she inhabited,
Her keyboard skills and speeds were as near perfection as it was possible to be,
She smiled, laughed and raised her glass in a toast having realised that like the rowing élite at Henley Regatta it was her right to be proud of her unacknowledged skills and achievements.