I probably shouldn’t be allowed outside

I resist taking advice. As a kid, when my mom told me I needed a sweater, I would roll my eyes and counter that I didn’t need one because I was a hard-ass motherfucker, and small inconveniences of nature like 40 mile-an-hour winds didn’t affect me. Then, I would call her an hour later because the “slight breeze” ripping through my spaghetti-strap tank and nylon shorts was making my teeth chatter. She would shout, “Too bad, sucka!” and hang up the phone.

Luckily, I’ve grown out of this ugly habit. Mostly.

I carry very little cash with me because when I have it around, I can never remember where I spent it and half the time, I think I’ve lost it and walk around in circles, checking pockets, turning purses upside down, and slipping my hands into all sorts of cracks and crevices looking for it. Harv thinks it’s best for me to stuff twenty dollars in the glove compartment…just in case. This, of course, makes me more determined to show Harv that my own system works just fine.

Usually, I just carry around my drivers license, a debit card, a credit card, and my Costco membership- because you never know when you’ll be in your car and suddenly think “Hot damn, I need 120 ounces of ketchup and 98 rolls of toilet paper RIGHT NOW.”

This worked just fine until last week.

There may have been an incident involving a parking garage. I may have called my husband during the middle of a workday asking for a five dollars. Harv may have asked why I needed this money, and I may have admitted that I was stuck in a parking garage with a broken ATM and no bank nearby to withdraw any cash.

There may have been an uncomfortably long silence on Harv’s end of the phone. Then there may have been some snorts and muffled laughter. I may have heard Harv speaking to no one in particular, “God, why me?” but this hasn’t been verified.

The only thing I’m sure of is that Harv must have felt pretty lucky in that moment to be married to someone who isn’t afraid to ask for help. I think that’s the sign of a really strong person- someone who is willing to disrupt her husband’s workday and ask him to drive across town to bring five dollars so she can escape the clutches of a parking garage.

Harv, you really scored.

Have you ever been woefully unprepared?
image via bluntcard.com

Monday Dare: I was raised by a pack of wolves

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Acquire phone skillz.

I’ve never worked in an office environment, which means I’ve been deprived of many glorious opportunities. I long for the chance to stand around a water cooler giving people the point-and-shoot + wink combo while recapping my weekend. I would give anything to be part of a Secret Santa gift exchange. If I’m lucky, I might get a bottle of Drakkar Noir, which I would then spray on all of my outgoing mail. These are all things that happen in a typical office, I’m assuming.

Not working in an office has also deprived me of the opportunity to cultivate my charming phone persona.

I called my friend, Becka, at her office a few weeks ago. I always feel like an asshole when I call someone during the workday. Do I keep it short and simple? Just a “hello” and the reason I called? Do I ask about their weekend? Do I go into detail about the left pinkie toe that is throbbing because I dropped a fucking mug on it? I don’t know.

Assistant: Hello, Becka’s office.

Me: Um…………………………………………………………………….Hi.

Assistant: Hi.

Me: Um. I’m calling for……uh………………………………………….

Assistant: Becka?

Me: YES! That’s her name. Can I, uh, leave her a message? My name is….wait…..it’s….fuck…..ELIZABETH. MY NAME IS ELIZABETH.

Assistant: Would you like for me to see if she’s available?

Me: Oh, like, talk to her? I guess. I mean, I…sure.

After Becka got on the phone, I blurted out, “God, I wasn’t even planning on talking to you right now.”

She was too nice to say, “Then why did you call me, asshole?” but I guess that’s why she gets to work in an office and I don’t. Because she has phone skillz.

I’m not even sure how I still have friends. I should probably resort to texting.

I sent an email to Becka’s assistant later that day. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I was raised by a pack of wolves, and I have no life training.”

She responded back with a most gracious, “No problem!” It’s clear she has LOTS of life training.

I asked to tag along with Harv this week and answer his office phone so I could acquire some phone skillz. He didn’t think it was a good idea. Probably because he’s afraid I’ll upstage him. Or maybe because he wants to keep his job.

Are you awkward on the phone? Any other basic life skills you need to work on?

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image via failbook.com