Woman of the Street: "Could you spare some change?"
Me: "I'm sorry, I don't carry cash."
WofS takes a step, pauses, turns toward me again
WofS: "How about some cheques then?"
WofS grins
WofS: "Just kidding! Have a nice evening!"
How much better could life be if everyone approached it with a sense of humour?
Friday, June 15, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Excuse me, have you seen my pants?
This isn't about the time that I had to ask my co-workers if I had my pants on in the cab when they dropped me off (a different story) or about the underwear I left in the Dominican Republic (a completely different story). It's interesting how many stories in my life end with me losing or leaving "bottoms" somewhere.
I heard something clunk behind me as I ran to cross the street where I was nearly hit earlier this month. I turned around and saw an item from my backpack on the pavement. I ran back to get it, crossed the street, took off my backpack, and realized only then that I forgot to close the bottom of it. What to do at this point? Walk all the way back to work (read 10 minutes) to find the pants that were likely already gone or head home and admit defeat? Score 1 - Commute; Score 0 - Me.
I had a tight deadline today so I decided to jog back and see what I could see. About a block later, I felt that my walk was futile. I stopped a woman walking my direction and asked her if she had seen my pants. She didn't look at me like I was a complete idiot, which scared me a little bit, to be honest. We had a lovely chat about where she had walked from, my open bag, how I would have to post this on my blog. End result? She hadn't seen my pants. I decided to abandon the search, admit defeat (see score above), and head home. Funny, I can get total strangers to talk to me when I'm searching for my pants on the street but I can hardly get anyone to say hello in the elevator in the building where we all spend 8 hours a day together.
By the time I got home, I had gained some perspective about my lost pants. Sure, it would have been better if it had been my shirt - I don't really like it that much any more. Yes, it would have been much worse if I'd have dropped my wallet, or day timer, or cell phone, or security pass. I decided this would be one of those great stories - like the time I threw up and one of my lenses fell into the toilet and I was too grossed out to reach in for it so I flushed it down. Yeah, it would be one of those stories.
With my newly gained perspective on people who talk to you when something bad happens to you, and how I was thankful it wasn't the pants from my new expensive suit, I got in my car and drove back the way I came, this time to school. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a piece of grey fabric on the sidewalk - untouched and in an unceremonious heap. I did a quick u-turn and retrieved my pants. No worse for wear and now back in my closet (I guess I should wash them, now that I think about it. I'm pretty sure nobody tried them on and then left them, though.) So, the commute didn't defeat me after all. Score 1 - Me; Score 0 - Commute.
Now I only have to wonder where my socks went.
I heard something clunk behind me as I ran to cross the street where I was nearly hit earlier this month. I turned around and saw an item from my backpack on the pavement. I ran back to get it, crossed the street, took off my backpack, and realized only then that I forgot to close the bottom of it. What to do at this point? Walk all the way back to work (read 10 minutes) to find the pants that were likely already gone or head home and admit defeat? Score 1 - Commute; Score 0 - Me.
I had a tight deadline today so I decided to jog back and see what I could see. About a block later, I felt that my walk was futile. I stopped a woman walking my direction and asked her if she had seen my pants. She didn't look at me like I was a complete idiot, which scared me a little bit, to be honest. We had a lovely chat about where she had walked from, my open bag, how I would have to post this on my blog. End result? She hadn't seen my pants. I decided to abandon the search, admit defeat (see score above), and head home. Funny, I can get total strangers to talk to me when I'm searching for my pants on the street but I can hardly get anyone to say hello in the elevator in the building where we all spend 8 hours a day together.
By the time I got home, I had gained some perspective about my lost pants. Sure, it would have been better if it had been my shirt - I don't really like it that much any more. Yes, it would have been much worse if I'd have dropped my wallet, or day timer, or cell phone, or security pass. I decided this would be one of those great stories - like the time I threw up and one of my lenses fell into the toilet and I was too grossed out to reach in for it so I flushed it down. Yeah, it would be one of those stories.
With my newly gained perspective on people who talk to you when something bad happens to you, and how I was thankful it wasn't the pants from my new expensive suit, I got in my car and drove back the way I came, this time to school. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a piece of grey fabric on the sidewalk - untouched and in an unceremonious heap. I did a quick u-turn and retrieved my pants. No worse for wear and now back in my closet (I guess I should wash them, now that I think about it. I'm pretty sure nobody tried them on and then left them, though.) So, the commute didn't defeat me after all. Score 1 - Me; Score 0 - Commute.
Now I only have to wonder where my socks went.
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