The Birth of the So-uncool.

The Oakland Museum’s publicist invited me to their annual Golden Gala (last Saturday), which was timed to be the opening for “The Birth Of The Cool Show.” I didn’t ask for an invitation, but out of the blue you receive a brief cover note and the fancy invitation in the mail. I could care less about their fundraiser, but thought what the heck.

The black-tie event was scheduled like this: a cocktail reception, dinner and live auction, followed by dancing.

We booked the babysitter for four hours ($80 total). And arrived at the end of the cocktail reception (only 20 minutes ‘til dinner). The publicist tells me that we will be “cut off at the knees” at 8pm (that’s when the dinner starts).  Huh? She says I was only invited for cocktails, and then she berates me in front of my wife by scolding me with a condescending tone, “it was crystal clear in the cover letter to you."

The note said something to the effect of -- you and a guest are invited to the gala. It didn't say anything like - you and a guest are invited to the reception, unfortunately we have no seats available at the dinner for you. Obviously, that would have made it "crystal clear." And we would have stayed home.

If you were the publicist, you probably would  have checked the seating chart and tried to fit us in, right? That's what any decent publicist would do.

Yep, I’m still really mad about the whole thing.