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HAVE YOU EVER HAD

 

one of those moments where your ego was completely, and quickly, checked at the door?  That mid-torso uppercut right to the diaphragm that takes your breath away faster than you can say the word ego.

I have. In fact, I have had one that, until the day I die, will never forget.

This fateful event took place, way back in the 1900’s (as my daughter would tell you); back when my already lower than average view of myself was at its lowest…or the lowest at that point of my life.

I was between puberty and drinking age. The weird, kind of ugly stage in your life when you’re not quite sure who you are, what you’re going to be, and still have a less than average complexion. You aren’t an adult yet and haven’t quite come into your own. I was never the worst looking kid on the planet (except as a child), but by no means was I the prettiest girl growing up either. Or at least I didn’t think so.

One spring morning, I got up, got ready, and again with the daughter quotes, “rode my dinosaur to work.”

Upon arriving at my uncivilized place of employment where we wore leaves over our privates, I parked my dinosaur in its spot, slid down its tail, punched in and starting working. Although not a rock quarry, parts of it did have a B.C. type feel to it. Albeit being in the 1900’s, it wasn’t as prehistoric as my daughter likes to think. Their software was…but that’s irrelevant to this story.

I was 19 years old and at the time had two jobs, both of which were in an office environment of some sort. It was just a temporary bookkeeping job at a real estate title company that I took for extra money. I was hired for tax season to assist with the company’s annual taxes.

One of the many wonderful laws in California for businesses is that you must house 7 years of tax information on site.  Anything older than that can either be thrown away or put in a storage site. So, every tax season, before preparing the current year’s taxes, we would move the oldest taxes from inside the office, down to the storage area, which was a few suites down, to make room for the current years taxes.

I’m pretty sure the office space they had leased to run this business was previously a drug dealer’s home base or some sort of horror movie set. It looked like it must have been a motel in its past life, and someone decided to turn it into ghetto office suites.

Most of you know that there are hotels and there are motels and there is really only one key difference between the two. The primary difference between a hotel and a motel is the way in which you enter and/or exit the room you rent. If you’re staying in a motel, from inside your room, when you open the door, you’re opening it to the outside world (i.e. civilization – clouds, sun, the people from the nativity scene displays – things like that). If you’re in a hotel and you open the door from the inside of your room, you are opening it up to the inside of a building (indoor hallway, no clouds, no sun, no baby Jesus).

This building complex (and the 30 “suites” that it contained) was shaped like a horseshoe, with the parking lot in the middle of that horseshoe and our suite was located at one of the ends of that horseshoe. As soon as you walked out of our office, to the outside world, you would then be standing on a second-floor balcony/walkway that went around the entire horseshoe. It looked like what you would picture the inside of a prison looking like…only with clouds and although I felt like a prisoner there at times, there were no bars. Across the parking lot, at the other end of the horseshoe was another company.  I have no idea what that company did, all I knew was that hot guys worked there…and a lot of them. If I had to guess, I would say these guys were in their mid to late twenties at the time.  I noticed them my first day; however, they didn’t give me the time of day.  That was ego blow number 1 for me.  I must admit, it hurt my feelers a little.

So, pause right there while I give you a little insight into my childhood/adulthood.

Up until I was 23, my mom scratched my back almost daily because that’s always been one of my favorite things. She died when I was 23, so that’s where that ended. I have always liked back scratches and because of that, I kind of adapted to this weird habit of tickling myself. No, not in the way you’re thinking. Although, more than likely an accurate thought, this is not where this story is going.

When I had off-time at work (or anywhere really) or was sitting, thinking, or otherwise staring off into space, if something was in my hand, it was usually tickling my face. I would slowly glide whatever it was across my face, neck, arms, whatever. Weird I know…but it tickled…in a good way and it was always kind of a soothing mechanism for me, I guess.

Now knowing that, let me continue the story:

My job duties for today were to box up, label and move the old taxes into our storage unit, which was in the same building a few suites down. I got about halfway done with my assignment when I saw my boss walk outside.  I had no idea where she went or what she was doing, all I did know was that it warranted a break for me.

I sat at my desk and as I always do, started tickling my neck and face with the back of the sharpie marker I was using to label the boxes and started zoning out.  I tickled my face and neck for a good 25-30 minutes or so daydreaming and staring off into space. After that, I snapped out of it thinking my boss is sure to return any second now. So, I grabbed a couple boxes and headed outside and down to storage.

If I had to guess, I would say my boss was in her mid-late thirties.  An average looking woman with long brown hair and a calm demeanor.  This woman couldn’t have been nicer if she tried. In the month and a half that I had been there, not one time did I ever hear her get mad, lose her temper or curse. I saw her get slightly irritated one time, and not one negative thing came out of her mouth, especially not a curse word.

As I step outside, of course, I glance over to the hottie suite.  As expected, they were all standing outside only this time staring right at me.  These same guys that hadn’t even so much as glanced in my direction in 6 weeks, now all locked on me like a sniper.

“Holy shit!” I thought to myself, noting any difference in my appearance today that any other day.

I proceeded to walk down the catwalk balcony towards our storage, when I heard footsteps coming towards me.  I couldn’t see who it was as I had boxes in my hands stacked up higher than my face.

Suddenly I hear what sounds like my boss, only much meaner, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Her voice echoed throughout that horseshoe business park like banshees haunting a graveyard.

I was shocked. I was confused and I was convinced she most certainly was not talking to me, but she scared me so badly that I threw the tax boxes and paper flew everywhere.

 

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” I hesitantly asked.

Truth is, I was both hesitant and confident. Hesitant because I just witnessed a self-performed exorcism, and a demon escape my bosses 5’2” body through her mouth. Confident because there was no fucking way she was talking to me. I didn’t do anything wrong.

My boss’s voice echoing through the horror movie scene once more, “HAVE YOU LOOKED IN THE FUCKING MIRROR?"

That was 2 fucks in less than 20 seconds. Something was SERIOUSLY wrong.

“Uh…no….why? Did I spill something on myself?” I asked her, looking down at my shirt.

“GIVE ME THAT SHIT AND GET YOUR ASS IN THE FUCKING BATHROOM," she yelled.

Now completely mortified because Fabio and friends had their eyes glued on me like white on rice. Embarrassed enough that they had just witnessed a first ass chewing by a woman that wears a halo. Afraid to make eye contact with anyone, I did as I was told and proceeded to the bathroom feeling like a disciplined puppy, tail between my legs. The bathroom was about halfway between our work suite and our storage suite, about 20 steps from my office.

It felt like the worst walk of shame, those twenty steps, only 1000 times worse.  Each of the steps had it own repeated sound that faded off with an echo. 20 of the slowest, loudest, longest steps of my life up to that moment.

I stood outside the bathroom for about 5 seconds, afraid of what I was about to see.  The bathroom was one of those community bathrooms; all of the second-floor suites shared it. When you walk into the bathroom, there were 5 individual stalls and a mirror that hung over 2 sinks. As I stood outside, I wondered what could possibly be so horrible that it caused Satan to be expelled from my bosses miniature body.  I wasn’t sure if I was quite ready to see it, but knew I had to.

I pushed the door open just far enough to get my fat ass head into.  I peeked around to make sure no one was in there.  Thank God – empty.  I checked for feet under the stalls also..just in case.  Ok good, all in the clear.

The mirror was right in front of me, but I didn’t want to look up, fearing the worst. Am I bald or missing my front teeth or even worse? The anticipation got the best of me, and I slowly rolled my eyes up to the mirror.

Instantly I gasped, trying to refrain from screaming at the top of my lungs. “OH, MY FUCKING……OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I now saw, and completely understood why I just got my ass handed to me by the nicest person on the plant.

“WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??”

And then it clicked…

*Cue the trippy music and tie dye whirlpool effect*

At that exact moment, my entire day turned into a slow moving, matrix feeling acid trip that felt like it lasted hours.  Then suddenly and violently thrusted me back into reality. I was nauseous. I was embarrassed…. I just stood, frozen, speechless and in complete awe

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I was seeing in the mirror. My teeth were in check, wasn’t bald…all that looked fine.

What I couldn’t see on my face, however, was white skin. I mean not a single millimeter of white skin anywhere on my face, neck, cheeks...NOWHERE! All that was left to see of my actual skin tone was the pink  of my lips and the whites of my eyes.…NOT ONE SPECK OF WHITE SKIN…ANYWHERE!

My little breaktime back at the office where I decided I would tickle my neck with the BLACK SHARPIE marker I was using to label the boxes – BAD FUCKING IDEA. Apparently, I was so relaxed in my little personal pamper time, that not only did I not realize I was using the wrong end of the marker to tickle my neck, BUT THE FUCKING LID WAS ALSO OFF. That entire makeshift spa treatment I was giving myself for 30+ minutes turned out to be a self-inflicted joke...on me.

No wonder the hotties were staring at me. I, too, would have had my eyes locked onto some dumb blonde whose face was now painted black. I can only imagine what they guys were thinking. Here I am, thinking I look cute today because, finally, I have their attention. Little did I know, they were staring at me because I went to work looking normal and came out for a break looking like a motherfucking circus freak.

WHO DOES THIS SHIT? Me…that’s who.

As I stood in the mirror in this shock and awe moment just staring at the art project on my face, ten bazillion thoughts ran through my head.

“How do I get it off?” “What the fuck do I do now?” “How in the fuck did this happen?”

In a complete panic, I went thrashing through every nook and cranny in that bathroom – cabinets, under the sink, I damn near went through the trash, hoping to find some magic solution, a sponge, acetone,  even better a magic portal that would get me the fuck out of there.  The last thing on the planet I wanted to do was walk back outside.

Face covered in sharpie, not sure if I was going to puke or cry, I came across a Brillo pad.  I hesitated for a whopping .05 seconds knowing the damage this was going to do to my face.  I didn’t care. I was not walking outside with sharpie on my face, no matter what it took to get it off.

So, I started scrubbing.

I’m pretty sure my face bled before any sharpie came off. After 10 minutes of self-torture, MAYBE 40% of that sharpie came off. I knew I had to face my worst fear and go back outside to return to the office.

I thought the 20 steps to the bathroom were torturous, those were a walk in the park compared to the 20 or so that it took me to get back to the office.  I walked back into the office and was instantly greeted by my boss with this horribly disappointed look on her face.

“Should I just turn in my resignation now?” I sheepishly inquired.

45 minutes ago, this woman was possessed by the devil himself. Now completely mute.

All the sudden, out of her mouth was not the roar of banshees, but this uncontrollable, gut wrenching, belly generated laugh. The kind where you can’t breathe.  The kind that makes your stomach hurt for the next week. Her cackle continued for what felt like an eternity as I just stood, completely confused and not even sure how to handle this one.

After what seemed like an eternity she says, “So many questions…. I don’t even know where to start.”

I replied, “I can give you back my office key right now.”

“No way, she said...you’re not getting off that easy. However, I am going to send you home for the day, for your own sake. I see the trip to the bathroom didn’t help. You’re not in trouble, I just want to know what the actual…why? How? Please help me understand what I just saw.”

On with my explanation I proceeded. I don’t think she paused from laughing long enough to catch her breath throughout my entire story.

“That is the funniest thing I think I have ever witnessed in my entire life,” she tells me, “But yes, take the rest of the day off…go take care of your face before you get permanent scars.”

Homeward bound I went.

About a week before this little episode, I befriended a lady who worked in the same office building.  The front door to her office was behind our suite. The next morning, she had arrived at work at the same time I did.  We made some small talk as we walked up the stairs to our offices.  We got to her office door first which is when she stopped to ask me what had happened yesterday.  She confirmed what I already knew, she also heard the banshees haunting the graveyard the day before. She brought me into her office where she showed me a door that I had no idea was connected to our suite.  She offered to let me come and go through that door for the next 2 weeks as to avoid the hotties. I was offered another job the night before, so I only had to work there another 2 weeks.

So, for my final days there, I entered and exited daily through my new friend’s office, never having to see the hotties again.

Piece of advice: Be very specific when you wish for something. I mean overkill specific...grave details specific. Almost always, you'll get what you wished for, but chances are it won’t happen how you expect it to.  I wanted the attention of Magic Mike and friends.  Well, I got it. I thought my ego was bruised before this happened, unable to get their attention. Little did I know I was about to receive my first REAL TKO.

Trying to remain optimistic and see the silver lining in things, I did take something positive from this. Not only did I get their attention, but I’m also pretty sure they have never forgotten me.

Lesson learned. Well played Karma!