Bits and bobs

Random thoughts about random things by a random person

Tag Archives: clumsy


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How not to impress people on the first day at your new job, or “What did you do now?”

(Queasy stomach alert: If you don’t like injury stories, please don’t continue. It’s not totally a hurl-your-guts story, but some tummies are extra-sensitive and if you are on that side of the scale, you might wanna pass on this one…)

I started a new position at work on Monday past. Unlike most new positions the last several years, there wasn’t anyone I knew at this new one. I was starting with a completely blank slate (other than the references that got me the job). There’s a lot of power with a blank slate – you can put ANYTHING on it. And on that first day, being the time of first impressions and all, what you put on it can be very, very…very…important.

What did I put on mine? This:

 

This was taken on Tuesday. It’s not a great shot…it looked a lot worse…much more “raw meat”-esque than it does here.
This was taken today… still quite sore, but the scabbing has started….yay!

No, no…please – hold the applause.

Like most of the injuries I’ve had in my life (including breaking an ankle BEFORE a softball game), I don’t have a great story to go with it. Not even a lame “I took a dive to save a tipping printer” office story. Nope. Wanna know how I did it? (Don’t bother popping popcorn for this…honestly, it’s not worth it…)

Picture it: Sicily… Just kidding. That’s a different show… 😉

Seriously, though…I was heading down to the cafeteria for lunch. I pushed the elevator call button and leisurely paced back and forth in the hall while I waited. Soon enough, I heard the chime announcing an elevator’s arrival and I turned to head towards it. (In a movie, this is where the music would become louder, to indicate something big was about to happen and bring you to the edge of your seat.)

I’ve mentioned my age before, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m 48. I’m not new to this whole “foot at the end of your leg” thing, or walking, or any of that stuff. I’ve been doing it for quite a while now. Yet somehow (and I’m really and truly not sure how), I stumbled as I turned. I didn’t trip on anything…it’s a flat floor. I didn’t slip on any spills…it’s a carpeted floor. There weren’t even any wrinkles in the carpet. I just…stumbled.

Not being one to give in to a challenge, I was sure I could recover. I took a step forward and tried to regain my balance. Nope…didn’t work, so I took another step. Nah ah…so another step. And another. And another. Flashing occasionally in my mind at the same time was, “Man, I’m glad nobody else is here!” With each step I was angling closer and closer to the ground and after about the fifth, I knew it was a losing battle. Well, to be honest…it was a lost battle because down I went – THWUMP! And I went down harrrrrd – right in front of the now-open elevator doors.

Having my priorities in the right place, the very first thing I did was look inside the elevator. The Bad Fall Gods had taken pity on me again. Not only was there no one in the hallway, there was no one in the elevator!! YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!! There are definite perks to taking a late lunch.

Then I got back to the business of the moment: How badly was I hurt?

I did a quick check (still on the floor). Nothing was broken. My head felt odd and fuzzy, but only inside as I for sure hadn’t smacked it on the floor as I went down. My shoulders were feeling the impact, though, and I knew that would only get worse as time went by. I must have landed on my forearms as opposed to my hands, so thankfully there was no damage my wrists.

I picked myself up and tried to shake off the fuzzy headedness. That didn’t work (the headache lasted a few days), but since I was still hungry, I continued with my plan to get lunch. While sitting there, eating my sandwich, I discovered the carpet burn on my left forearm, which I did by innocently putting my arm on the table, as normal, to hold my book, the edge of the table cutting right across the scraped skin. O.U.C.H. I am very proud of myself, actually, for not having sworn like a sailor at that moment.

Anyhoooooooooooo…fast forward to me telling my new boss what had happened, which involved paperwork (every boss’s dream), and spending the rest of the afternoon repeatedly explaining to my new colleagues what had happened. If THAT didn’t fill them with confidence in me, I don’t know what would.

Take THAT, blank slate!!!

 


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Will I never learn? Or “The importance of good gravy”

For those of you who miss my Facebook Lucy-isms since I left FB, I think you’ll really enjoy this post…

I stayed at the Landing (see previous post) for about an hour – until my shaded spot had been hijacked by the sun. On my way home, I stopped in to Canadian Tire (feeling all outdoorsy as I was) and was tempted by a lovely tent that was on sale. It stood at 6’6″ in the centre and slept 6 (ie: 2 comfortably). It had a lovely canopy at the entrance and was 40% off. All wrapped up, it wouldn’t even take up too much space in my storage-roomless condo. I resisted the urge, though, knowing that I wouldn’t actually go camping by myself and nobody here than I know would go with me. All the same, it was fun to snoop around that section and pretend I belonged there!

On my way in, I had noticed a chip truck in the parking lot and decided to check it out before I left – fresh cut fries are a great treat on a beautiful, sunny day! I hadn’t eaten there before so I also got a side of gravy to see what it was like – I do love me some good gravy!

When I got home, I put my bag with my notebook, book, etc. over my shoulder, the container with the fries in my left hand, and the little cup of gravy (filled to the brim and smelling delicious, I happily add) perched on top of the fries container.

Everything was going so well. I balanced it all perfectly going up the steps to my building and when I unlocked and opened the front door. I had no issues on the stairs to my unit or unlocking my door. The steps and stairs made things a little wobbly, as did shifting the keys around at each of the doors. But it was all good.

Honestly, I’m not sure where the problem came into play, but play it did. All of a sudden (you can see where this is going), while I was standing on the flat, stable, tiled floor of my entry way, everything went awry and POOF! the gravy cup tumbled off of the fries container and landed with a splat on the floor. I mentioned I was on stable ground at the time, right? Yup. I was. Maybe I got cocky. I shouldn’t have. This scenario has played itself out multiple times in my life. If you follow me on Instagram (heresmeg1111), you may remember the sour-cream-on-the-kitchen-floor incident of the recent past. Yet, for some reason I continually think that this will be the time that either a) I won’t be clumsy or b) gravity will take pity on me. Alas, ’twas not to be!

In my own defense, though, I will add that when I was getting out of the car I thought for a moment of putting the cup of gravy in my purse, but I remembered one time a couple of years ago when I did that with some pop from McDonald’s because my hands were full with other things. Despite my best efforts, the lid popped off and, well…let’s just say it didn’t work out so well.

Thankfully that memory served me well today and I didn’t put the gravy in my purse. I at least get points for that, right?

Still feeling a smidgen of hope, before the cup hit the floor, I remember thinking that maybe it would be fine. Maybe it would be like that one-in-a-million time when the buttered toast lands buttered-side up. If you’ve been paying attention, though, you’ll remember that I’ve already used the word “splat” and therefore that it was not fine. The lid popped off of one end and the Styrofoam bottom split off from the other. The gravy, thick though it was, splashed out, Jackson Pollock-style on my floor.

I kept my wits about me, though, and managed to salvage the bit that was left in the cup so I could at least taste it.

I needn’t have bothered.