The day may've started out on a down note, but looks like it won't be ending that way!

The downer stuff: I wake up this a.m., thinking of cold pizza for breakfast (still nostalgic for college, I guess). But when I look in the Frigidaire, I can't find the leftovers anywhere! Must've spacily dumped 'em in the garbage. I don't remember doing this, but I see that my kitchen garbage sack is a fresh 'un, so I probably tossed it in the outside dumpster before I went to bed.

I drive to a nearby coffeehouse for a chocolate croissant and some flavored java, lose track of time and arrive two hours later than usual at the office. As I get ready to hand my report to Tripper, I see a smear of egg yoke near the bottom. Quickly wet my fingertip and rub it off, but it only gets deeper into the paper. Very professional, Denise!

But Tripper didn't even notice my glitch. He speed read his way through the report, smiled encouragingly and said, "Very nice, Denise! You really have a knack for this work!" Miz Professional practically swooned on the spot.

The upshot: I was given a fresh gig at one of the mall clothing shoppes. My assignment was to play helpless and see how the salesgirls treated me. Again, my target store did not do well.

The salesgirl copped an attitude with me. I'd wandered into the store, looking as confused as possible (not all that difficult a job for me, frankly), and asked the girl for a full-length dress in my size. It's a wonder the girl's eyes didn't slide back into her skull for all the eye-rolling she did. "Is this for someone else?" she finally asked. No, I told her, it was for me. "On a diet, are we?" she then had the nerve to ask.

Okay, so I know my clothes have been a bit tight on me the past few days. No need to get snotty about it, Little Miss Size Two! But I kept my assignment fresh in the forefront. What size do you recommend? I asked. She directed me to a rack full of what the store euphemistically calls Missus Fashions. How can I buy Missus Fashions when I not even married? Isn't there some kind of law against this? Impersonating a Matron or somp'n?

Once there, the girl left me to my own devices - and, I swear, the bitch walked off snickering. I rifled through the smallest size, picked out a 3/4-sleeve floral dress that was within my cash allowance, and took it into the fitting room. Damn thing was still too tight around the arms and middle, so I went up a size and was finally satisfied. I'm definitely gonna say no! to future restaurant assignments.

Still, I've got to admit the dress looked nice, size fourteen or no: dark green silk with a deep v-neck and self-tie side wrap. Wore it into the mall and didn't look half-bad in the store reflections, if I must say so. Too bad the store's clerk was so snooty.

Wrote a professional, suitably nasty report while waiting for lunch in the food court. It was mid-afternoon, and I was famished, so I didn't feel the least bit reluctant about ordering a good-sized lunch at Kenny Rogers. Decided to drop the hand-written report off at the office (and, let's be honest, show off my new dress). When I got to my car, I almost sat on an empty Hardee's bag. Color me flustered. Though it sure hadn't felt like it in the food court, I'd already eaten an early lunch before going into the dress shop!

The moment was so odd (how could I forget eating?) that I almost decided against returning to the office. But to do so would've felt even weirder, made the whole thing seem more out-of-control than it actually was. So I just tossed the sack into a nearby waste can and drove to the office. I was glad I did.

Hard to tell which made the better impression - the speed with which I tackled my assignment or the way I looked in my store-bought finery. Tell you what, though: for the first time all week, I detected interest in the boss-man's eyes. He was subtle, careful not to come across leering or aggressive, but he still managed to take in every part of the package that he could. After my earlier mind fugue, how could I not choose to be flattered?

Just a brazen hussy, that's me.

"Was gonna leave a message on your answering machine," he finally said. "The owners of S.'s were very pleased by our report. You went beyond the assignment and gave the client what they really needed."

Swear to God those were his exact words: you wouldn't think I could recall 'em so clearly, but I do. Even after he dropped the capper.

"The owners'd like to meet you," Tripper continued. "So I told 'em I'd bring you into the restaurant first chance I had. You free any time soon for dinner and a meeting?"

You kidding? How about right now?

So I'm going out on a not-quite-date with Tripper to meet the owners and nosh. Probably won't get back to blogging 'til after the weekend, so Monday I'll letcha know how things went. . .