It’s been a while since I humiliated myself in public. Like,
pure, unadulterated, you-can-never-go-back-there-again humiliation. It’s been
such a long while, in fact, that I should have known that the time was coming
soon for the universe to point it’s finger right at me and say, “Oh! THERE you
are! I’ve been looking for you.”
The majority of my day was spent pretending to look busy for
the cameras and holding up the walls of the office, while taking pictures of my
gorgeous wedge sandals that have been cooped up in my closet for way too
long. Losing weight has its perks; being
able to walk in cute shoes is one of them. Had I only known that those very
shoes would be the cause of one of the more degrading moments of my seemingly cursed
life.
But they say this kind of shit happens to everyone.
After work today, I went to the local Rent-A-Center store to
talk to the sales manager about partnering up for some marketing opportunities
for both our businesses. This is
typically NOT something I am comfortable doing; I’d much rather sit at my desk
and wait for assholes to come to me. Not
go out and actively round them up.
The sales manager was super busy, and I did the polite thing
and browsed the store while patiently waiting my turn. I’d been there JUST long enough for everyone
in the store to see me and know (from the label on my shirt) exactly which
company I worked for. I had my handy
dandy business cards and insurance brochures in my sweaty hands, ready to be
distributed.
And just when I thought I might get out of this alive, my
bill came due.
I turned to the sales manager and whispered, “I’ll just call
you tomorrow. All I really need to do is
go over your calendar with you to see when in December would be a good time to
set up this event.” She nodded at me and
I placed my business cards on the counter.
As I turned to leave, my ankle stopped working.
It. Stopped. Working.
My own body failed me. All I can
figure is that there must have been some neurological misfire between my brain
and the bottom half of my right leg, because it just didn’t work.
And I fell.
In the middle of the store.
Full of people.
You know that moment in a movie when some jackass walks into
a bar and you hear a record scratch and the whole room goes silent? That’s what happened. Minus the record scratch. Not a single person moved to help me, not a
single person even asked, “omg are you alright?”
I should have stood up and screamed, “DID ANYONE SEE
THAT?!?!? OR ARE YOU ALL JUST GOING TO STAND THERE AND DO NOTHING?”
Crickets.
All I could do was get up and take off my beautiful wedge
sandals and walk out the door.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to go back at some
point.

Gosh what can I do? Send some flat soles your way? Dont fret it sista. I bet none of those cats even remember.
ReplyDeleteI'm beginning to think I just need someone to hold my hand 24 hours a day. Or send me a helmet.
ReplyDelete