I got invited to a formal dinner that would have been attended by very senior work types as well as the odd sprinkle of pollies. Frankly it was a pity invite - though I appreciated it - and likely only because I am the group's point person in my government organ for reports.
It was a dinner suit required formal wear event.
I don't have one. I have a normal suit I've worn a half dozen times - and I took that to work, draped over the back seat of the car, fully intending on donning it and attending. Though I was nervous I would be singled out - Happy Feet style - because of my tan appearance amongst a sea of black.
But I didn't feel great and formal dinners where I get seated next to people I don't know tend to freak me out.
So I bailed. I sent my boss+++ an email and asked him to give my apologies.
I said I'd be his wingman at a future event.
Then ... for some reason I felt it needed an extra zing to the ending of that email.
Or I could open for you at your next event "... 12 inch pianist. Ladies and gentlemen, Boss(plusplusplus)!"
You know what? I think that last line wasn't needed after-all.