Tales from the Workplace

16th Floor Kitchen

“So Dave (I’m rarely called Dave), what was your highlight yesterday?“

Me. Blank stare. Yesterday? Sweet bejaysus, I can’t remember today. Hm. I went to work on my bike, came back home on…

“What was the worst thing that happened to you yesterday?”

Still, scratchy head blank

“You got dressed up.”

Oh. That.

“You have to tell Jaclyn, it’s…it was out straight out of a movie."

UNINTENDED ENCOUNTERS

To preface: I’ve somewhat lowered the bar on what passes for business casual attire. Short of a hoody (hoodie), sparkles and hair extensions, the bar is pretty much under ground. The environment is a mite corporate, the clients CEOs and investor relations. If we have an in-person meeting, we dress accordingly. 

Yesterday, I had an unexpected meeting. 

It’s not what you’re thinking. 

I have a jacket, shirt, trousers, ties (yes, two), and shoes hidden away in the office for such events. It’s just when I get dressy, it’s like whew, I look like I’m making a huge effort. Like Trump not telling a lie for a day, you notice – or you would.

Wearing a new, albeit 88% discounted shirt (SEE PICTURE) nixed the need for a swap and importantly, a tie. But still, I looked the part, and this despite having walked up sixteen flights of steps with a cup of tea. I even dusted off my shoes. GOLD STAR, THANK YOU, or a silver maple for the oncoming apocalypse.

This, my friends, was just a hand wash away from perfection.

Returning from the bathroom, I see the client arriving, before me, taking a seat. We exchange pleasantries and he looks at me for a second or two.

“You’ve got something stuck to your foot.”

I look. 

Yuh. Indeed. 

Five feet of trailing toilet paper, as it happens. Stuck to my left shoe.

fwwwwuu..

Like, why get up in the morning? Like, why make breakfast (I don’t). Like, why make your bed? (not very good at that either and it’s only a f*cking duvet).

But I shrug it off. I’ve seen worse, I tell him. I once saw a woman getting on a tour bus with about eight feet of toilet paper hanging from her behind. And no one told her.

Beat that. 

I didn't. 

With that moment of brilliance (and without taking the toilet paper off), I gesture to the meeting room.

• originally written in May, 2019