As you know from my previous post … this past Monday was a tough one for me. Some days, tragedy strikes when you just aren’t expecting it. When it hits so hard, all at once, it can take weeks, months or even years to recover. Sometimes, you never fully recover at all.
Monday turned into one of those days. I almost feel ready to talk about it now. I will push through. For you, my lovely readers.
I was running right on schedule (translation, thirteen minutes and three seconds late). I stumbled to my car before remembering that sometimes, just sometimes, you need car keys. Thank God, I had forgotten to lock my front door and was able to walk right in to my house to get them. Also, thank the Gods that be, I don’t live in a high crime area. Cause you know … open front door.
That wasted three minutes of retrieving my keys cost me my coffee stop on the way to work. There I was, in full Monday Zombie mode, uncaffeinated. I know, I know. That’s not a good thing for anyone. I’m okay though, I thought, because there is coffee at work. There is always coffee at work; my entire office worships the brown life-giving brew that enables us to think, socialize, and well, move at all.
Pulling into work, I see one spot left. It isn’t much of a spot, but after maneuvering my car for six minutes, I was able to park in it and exit my car through the trunk. It was at this very moment that I realized that I had forgotten my purse. My arms were too empty, you see.
Never mind the makeup, novel, phone charger, Kleenex, coupon book, six pounds of loose change, utensils (don’t laugh, have you seen the crusty knives at IHop?), travel mug, candy bars, protein bars to make me feel better about the candy bars, day planner, night planner, weekly planner, monthly planner, expired planner, frequent flyer fro-yo card, screwdriver, and other necessities for daily living, I had forgotten my wallet. Still, coffee was just 6 flights of steps away (did I mention the elevator was out?), so who needs a wallet.
Normally I have no problem with the non-company outsiders using our facilities for their meetings, but Friday’s meeting attendees must have needed coffee to stay awake, as we all do, during their meeting. I don’t begrudge them coffee, but they used all the creamer. They used the creamer powder we keep under the break room sink for emergencies. They used those tiny little creamer pods we keep as back up to the powder for emergencies. They raided the refrigerator and used the whole milk and cream (we don’t do half and half here) in there, too. Hoof prints in the break room seem to indicate that they brought a cow in for extra milk. I pictured people with plates piled high with creamer pods and powder, drinking mugs full of milk and creamer, laughing maniacally and high-fiving each other, “Ha! No creamer for THEM on Monday!”
The very nice person who always, but always, stops on Monday morning to get our coffee and break room snack supplies didn’t. I guess she was having ‘A Day,’ too. Later, she said she could have sworn there was enough creamer left in the fridge to do for a few days … having taken a much-needed day off on Friday, she was not privvy to the outsiders’ shenanigans. I don’t blame her. Yet, there I was, all coffee and no creamer. My spare creamer was in my purse. At home. My imagination played with me again, picturing a burglar sitting in my living room, watching Maury Povich, and helping himself to my purse creamer.
In case you are missing the importance of this, having no creamer in your coffee is like not eating popcorn at the movies. It’s like non-alcoholic beer. It’s a French fry with no ketchup. It can be done, sure, but only by a savage (I’m looking at you Lee). With no purse creamer and no wallet to slip out to Dunkin’ Donuts, I was facing a Monday without caffeine. Monday Without Coffee sounds like a country music song, doesn’t it? Or a horror movie.
No wallet means no lunch, so now I am uncaffeinated and unfed. This is a double whammy. I think I may have lost a few friends that day.
Then, in a rare burst of energy, I decided to walk to the copier. My heel broke, causing me to do a dance move I can loosely compare to the Hokey Pokey on speed. My copies flew all over the hallway as I struggled to maintain my balance. Why would my heel betray me? Well, obviously it’s because the shoe was old and not because I have all the grace of a wounded wildebeest.
Naturally, it was National Blooming Idiot Day and everyone around me seemed to be celebrating. I’m not sure if it was because I was unfed, uncaffeinated, unheeled, and temporarily unglued but these people were more idiotic than normal.
I’m sure you all can share my pain when I say I have a few people in my life who completely lack any sense of self-awareness whatsoever. While they wantonly cavort through my private life, they seem to be especially prolific at work. For those, I offer this piece of advice … when we tell you that you’re a piece of work … it is NOT a compliment.
To add insult to injury, here is Shari, her heathen cup of black coffee in hand, perky and bright. “Gee, broke a heel?”
No, Shari, I always lurch like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. You never noticed? Gee, Shari, how did you not realize I have one leg shorter than the other? Gosh, Shari, this is the newest fashion craze, you didn’t know?
Instead, I just mumbled “Yeah.”
Helpful Shari. “Don’t you keep crazy glue in your purse?”
That was the last time Shari was ever seen. You’ll never find the body, I promise.
It’s in my purse.
Ever have a day like this? You swear that if just ONE more thing goes wrong, you’ll snap.
Then the universe responds, “Challenge accepted!”