Curses!

I'm back at the coffee shop. This time though, there are no comfy places. OK, there are, but I'm not in the mood to mingle and if I can't have the couch to myself, I don't want a couch.

I've been on my feet all day getting ready for the week. I have all my lunches ready to be packed and outfits put together. It's comforting to see them all hanging in a row with accessories already picked out. My clothes, not the lunches. I wish I could figure out a way to accessorize my lunches. I figure all of this will cut my preparation by two thirds. I work so much better in the morning when I don't actually have to think.

I can't wait until I am no longer in pain every waking minute. What a glorious day that will be. I will sing and dance. I will be alone when that happens. I do enough things to embarrass myself in public. My most recent escapade involves one of my boss' clients. He is so pretty. Sometimes, I meet someone who is so attractive that my brain freezes. I can't speak, I can't move, I just stare in awe. Take this latest guy, let's call him Bruce. The first time I came face to face with Bruce, I stared so long, that one of the partners introduced me. I don't get introduced to clients. I open the door to the conference room. I bring in a tray with a pitcher of water and glasses. As I set it down on the table, I smile and nod to at the client. Then I leave, backing out the door looking around making sure nothing else is needed.

Not this time. I opened the door. I brought in the tray. As I set it down on the table, I smiled at Bruce and got caught in his eyes. I stare at him, frozen in time, with the tray hovering over the table. Like a statue to commemorate Executive Assistants everywhere. Who knows how long that went on before the partner finally cleared his throat and introduced me. I was so startled by his voice, I jumped. I like to think that I recovered. I like to think that I smiled, shook his hand and said nice to meet you. Instead I watched him get up out of his chair and offer his hand before I moved. I am pretty sure I blushed as I grabbed his hand before running out of the room. I believe I even slammed the door in my hurry to get out of dodge.

Wouldn't it be nice if that were the end of this story? If it were, I could tell you the next time I met Bruce I was all grace and charm. Since I don't possess any grace of movement and all of my charms are based on dancing the line of social acceptability, my imagination is not adequate to even dream of how that would look. Some time later, Bruce came in with two colleagues for a lunch meeting. I made sure the lunches and beverages were in the conference room prior to everyone's arrival. I planned to regain at least a shred of my dignity. That plan consisted mostly of me not entering the conference room more than absolutely necessary. If all went well, I would only have to enter the room once. To my credit, I did only enter once.

I went in to check on them and I discovered that the second principal was present. Fortunately, he provided introductions at the first debacle, so my behavior could not have been completely unexpected. Keeping my gaze high and low to avoid any eye contact. I glanced around the room before I noticed him sitting there without a lunch. He joked about not being as important as his partner. Unfortunately instead of a witty comeback, I offered up my boss' lunch. Luckily this amused the crowd into laughing and sharing their own one-liners. I laughed right along with everyone, still maintaining zero eye contact. Then Bruce said something. I'd tell you what he said, but I don't remember because before I could stop myself, I turned and looked in his direction. I regained awareness fairly quickly this time and I told myself to look away. Then I screamed at myself to look away because I couldn't stop staring. Finally I lowered my head, laughed and followed up with a joke.

Relieved that I had clumsily recovered and he was probably the only one who noticed I started backing out of the door. (Trust me, I saw his face, he noticed.) I grabbed the handle and started closeing the door. In slow motion, I put my foot behind me, raised my head triumphantly at the closing of this scene and tripped over my own feet. Since I had the door handle in my hand, I managed to catch myself. But the weight of my fall backwards slammed the door in my own face.

For now, let's just end this story with that appropriate metaphor and hope there won't be any future installments.