I pride myself on always being prepared for pretty much every scenario.
Lock yourself out of the house? I’ve got keys hidden all over the place. Same thing for my office building. Keys. Everywhere.
Rip your breeches or lose a button? I carry a mini-sewing kit.
Earache? I have drops for that.
Nausea? Intestinal distress? Headache? Got, have, and got.
My purse is a veritable Mary Poppins replica.
But, what happened to the lawyer last week….well, let’s just say that nothing in my purse could have helped.
I work in a really beautiful setting. My office building sits on the edge of a lake, the parking lot being the only thing between me and the water.
Last week we had a team of auditors, and attorneys, come visit us to check out our environmental programs and permits. It’s all part of the game when you generate power.
The littlest of the attorneys was all of five foot tall, but her three inch heels made her seem much bigger. That and her incredibly fast mode of speech. I swear, in all my life, I’ve never, ever heard anyone say so much so fast. And I understood every word. Once she was done, it was all I could do not to stand up and applaud. She was impressive.
During a break she got a phone call and headed outside to – I presume – have some privacy.
She walked to the parking lot, and towards the steep incline heading down to the lake.
You know that feeling you get when something really awful is about to happen, and you’re watching it, and you are powerless to do anything about it?
She was animatedly chatting a mile-a-minute on the phone and aimlessly wandering closer and closer to the water.
Then, the inevitable happened.
Her heel caught in the grass and she went Pradas over Marc Jacobs suit, tumbling down the hill.
I really wanted to laugh, but I was truly concerned she’d not stop before the water, so I ran towards her instead.
About the time I reached the top of the hill, I looked down and she had righted herself, stood up, and was still talking on the phone.
That woman, right there, is a badass. I’m glad she’s on our side.
You know how you’re driving down the road, and the sensor for the seat belt in the passenger seat goes off to tell you that the passenger should buckle their belt right now, and there’s no one in the seat so you wonder if a ghost has hitched a ride or if your new car has some kind of computer glitch that starts with a seemingly innocuous warning but farther down the road will turn into the vehicle’s entire computer system crashing and causing the car to fail at 70 mph, but then you realize it’s your purse that’s making the sensor go off and you think ‘no wonder my shoulder hurts all the time’ and you also wonder how much shit you must be carrying to have a seat sensor think your purse is a person and then you debate over cleaning out your purse or just saying feck it and fastening the seat belt around it?
My Easter began with the traditional pre-Easter chewing of the door frame by our suddenly can’t-be-without-us rescue GSD on Saturday night, and proceeded to the traditional splish-splort-what-the-feck-is-going-on foray into the flooded bathroom and sewage back-up into both tubs/showers, followed by the now traditional monsoon minutes after the kids finished the Easter egg hunt. In between, there was one seriously wounded knee (mine, it met the enemy – the dishwasher door – and was soundly defeated) multiple loads of laundry as every towel in the house was called into service, mops, bleach, gloves, more bleach, paper towels, more bleach, one $320 plumber bill (snaked the sewer line, no roots found so he thinks we are okay), one black eye (granddaughter, meet plastic car in your brother’s running at full speed hands), one spilled soda all over the floor, table, rugs, and one collapsed table – one side decided to call it a night long before we were ready, and that’s when the drink got dumped on the floor, and it ended with hubby and I collapsing into a totally exhausted and so sore we could barely move heap. I need a vacation from my holiday…stat.
I mean, seriously, if I use that word I get like a bajillion visits in a day.
So, since readership has fallen off I’ve decided to let my standards slip to the floor and do something I abhor.
Like shameless usage of words I know will get attention.
Not in a good way.
I’m such a disappointment.
And an attention whore.
All I wanted was pizza for us. Two of the grandkids and their daddy stopped by spur-of-the-moment, so it was Capt. Pizza Hut to the rescue.
Pizza was ordered, and I drove to pick it up.
I walked into the teen-eyenie storefront place to a pre-show for WWE Smackdown. (Is that right? I don’t watch wrastlin’)
Tall Skinny 40+ yr. old Dude (TSD) was red-faced leaning over the counter and accusing a terrified 17-yr. old boy of “denting my car”. The kid’s eyes were big as saucers as he tried ineffectively to apologize.
TSD was not satisfied and proceeded to point at the kid, out the window to his damaged car, and back at the kid telling him that is not how one reacts to denting a door. One is supposed to stop, render aid, drop and roll…or something like that.
That’s when Big Burly also 40+ yr. old Dude, who had been watching like the rest of us, stepped up and said, “Duuuuuuuuuude…you need to chill”
To which TSD, still seething (but not seeing BBD yet), replied with “You gonna ma-..” before realizing BBD had kick-ass written all over him.
Really, the dude was big. Even under his jacket I could tell he didn’t spend his spare time exclusively playing World of Warcraft (again, is that right? I also don’t do video games), but spent a good deal of it deadlifting Volkswagens and Prius’, perhaps even the occasional Leaf.
BBD took the silent pause to add, “He’s a kid, man, just chill out here. You don’t need to get in his face.”
TSD, not sufficiently recovered from his near ass-beatin’ experience, pointed to his Kia and said, “He opened his Mustang’s car door and slammed it right into mine.”
TSD’s little blonde wife came in at that moment, and nodded, “That’s right, and there’s a big dent in the door.”
It took everything I had not to say something smart-ass like, “You drive a POS Kia, dude. A good windstorm will crumple it.” But, for once I thought before speaking.
I am afraid this will become a habit. But, I digress.
By this time the Pizza Hut manager had joined the fray, and offers to provide insurance info, or call the police, were made. The POS Kia was inspected, tongues clucked, and then TSD and LBW were comped the pizza they’d been there to pick up. They left.
And that’s when I said, “Very nice of you to speak up, young man.”
Others said the same, but I still wonder if I should have added the high five or fist bump?
I have a cure, so put down the bottle and just breathe.
So, if you haven’t laughed so hard you peed your pants yet this week…..
But first, be sure to have an extra pair of underwear on hand..or Depends…whatever floats your boat.
Well, at least the person who answered the phone at Major Plumbing Company thinks so.
For the record, I’m not.
Also for the record, I need a plumber.
And that’s why I called Major Plumbing Company in the first place. The conversation went like this:
Major Plumbing Company Receptionist/Scheduler: Hello, this is MPC, how may I help you?
Me: Yes, I need to get someone to come out and look at a valve in my tub. I can’t turn the water on.
Me: 123 Everywhere, Anytown, TX
This went on for a few seconds, so I looked at my phone to see if it had dropped the call. It hadn’t.
Me: Hello? Hellooooooo?
A few seconds later….
MPCR/S: And when do you close?
Me: What? This isn’t a new house or a sale.
MPCR/S: Can you verify your address again, because I’m not finding it.
Me: 123 Everywhere Court – or it could be Drive, depends on which map you are looking at, Anytown, TX
By now, I figured out the silence was actually my being put on hold. I waited just a few seconds and she was back.
MPCR/S: What is your closing date?
Me: (what the hell, let’s have some fun) November 30th, 1997
Me: This is not for an inspection. This is not a new house, this is not a sale. I need a repair to the valve in my bathtub.
MPCR/S: And who is your builder?
Me: Jack. Mine is the house that Jack built.
MPCR/S: Is it still under warranty?
Me: I wish…but, no.
MPCR/S: And when is your closing date?
Me: January 4th, 2027
I hung up, thoroughly amused and pissed at the same time. Major Company lost out when I called Much Smaller and Local Company and scheduled an appointment in less than one minute.
Seriously, though, how stupid can a person be and still be employed. Because, if that woman is the ‘bar’, then it’s scraping the ground right now.