to bring you a true life story of how I am my own biggest barrier. This week’s Friday Five was on the subject of barriers and I had every intention of playing, but then my own life interfered. Let me begin with apologies to Boss Man as we have a “gentleman’s agreement” that he doesn’t get blogged about but he plays a significant role in today’s drama. I would also contend that I have kept my end of the bargain because I don’t blog about his personal life, which BELIEVE ME, is a blog unto itself. And I only say really nice things about him. But I digress. The events of the morning are as follows:
1. I am getting ready for work this morning when I discover the mysterious lack of mascara. I have no idea where it is. Having been raised by a mid-western woman, I have a firm belief that one does not leave the house without having first applied mascara and lipstick, at minimum. As living on the west coast has softened me, I decide to buck up, leave the house, and will go immediately to Walgreen’s on my arrival and purchase stop-gap mascara until such time as suitable mascara can be procured. Fine.
2. Arrival at office. Get settled, start up computer, go get mascara. Need purse and wallet. Huh. It seems that my purse is nowhere to be found. I know in an instant that I had left it on the train. Instant nausea sets in. I inventory all the things in my purse – wallet with bank stuff, license, muni pass, etc., calendar, lipstick, mail, OH MY GOSH MY TINY CONDIMENTS THAT ABBY GAVE ME. My tiny condiments! How would I ever practice safe sandwich? This is intolerable.
I had spent my rather lengthy commute this morning standing toward the front of the last car and therefore staring at the back of the previous car and the number 1520B. This is important. It may be the name of my first child. As soon as I discover that the purse is gone, I call MUNI, and get a very cool, very sympathetic person who takes a description of the purse, time and place I got off and that very important number. Then I proceed to wring my hands and stare at the phone.
I receive a return call in about 15 minutes that indeed my purse had been located and I have never been more relieved. The train is at the Civic Center Station and the purse will be dropped off at the MUNI office at Church & Duboce. Here’s the thing – I can hop on the MUNI and go get it, but my pass is in the purse, so I could get a ticket, I could fight it, etc. What a pain.
After I learn the whereabouts of my purse, I take my adrenaline-addled self into the boss’ office to let him know the scoop. No purse, no mascara. Which is worse, he asks? Obviously, the mascara, I reply. He offers to say something nice to me but knows that I won’t like it, so refrains. Then the nicest boss in the universe offers to drive me over there and get my bag. Very sweet.
We hop in the big manly truck and head over there. I run up to the door and knock on it and a very jolly elderly gentleman opens the door and says, “You’re much better looking in person than the photo on your driver’s license.” This I can agree with, so I allow. Then he playfully asks, “Are you looking for something?” Funny. He is great about it, hands over the purse and I gush with gratitude. Boss Man and I stop at a taqueria in the Mission and grab lunch and then head back to the office.
This post is already long enough so I won’t go into the details of what my personal barriers are but I will list them and then perhaps do a more detailed re-working of them at another point (aren’t you lucky). They are, in no particular order:
1. The inability to accept compliments with which I do not agree. Seriously. How arrogant is that? You can’t possibly have an opinion that is different than mine? What is wrong with me?
2. I HATE being the damsel in distress, and that’s what I was yesterday. Ack. Let people help. Let people help. This must be my mantra.