Last week I profiled my fantastic inability to get my winter jacket undone while I was late to work at the theater.
This week, I succeeded in getting to work on time.
However:
While standing in front of my colorful Canadian cash register, I noticed a crowd beginning to grow. At the same time, my bladder was beginning to grow. So, I figured I'd just slip off to the washroom before the next rush of caffeine-deprived movie-goers line up to order cups filled with 5 creams and 7 sugars and a touch of coffee, for color.
Slipped off to the bathroom. Sat on toilet. Blew my nose. Nose starts bleeding.
(It's kind of an occupational hazard of over-working in an overheated toaster house.)
Crap.
Pull out my cell phone to text my "Team Leader" (yay team ...) to let her know I'm temporarily incapacitated.
Drop phone in toilet.
Gross.
Yeah, I'd definitely already put my donation in the bowl. (Besides my cellphone.) It was number one, though, which is better than number two. (If you've read this far I'm sure I've lost all hope of earning your respect.) However, my nose was bleeding, so there was a nice amount of redness in the toilet as well. I also lost sight of my phone and was rather worried it had gone down the pipes.
So, I stand in Movie Theater bathroom stall with a piece of toilet paper shoved up my left nostril, staring into the abyss of the toilet bowl, listening to Cindy Lou and her friend talk about Black Swan in the stalls beside me. How appropriate. The toilet is looking rather horrifying right now.
To make a long story longer: I got my phone back. Washed my hands. Debated dunking them in the boiling deep fryer to sanitize them. (You shouldn't eat fries anyway, they're bad for you. Especially our fries. A friend pointed out that at some point a mouse has probably climbed into the fryer and, well, disintegrated. I wouldn't doubt it. I'm never eating fries again.)
Surprisingly my phone still works, and now I got an awesomely gross story out of it to blog about! I'd say it's a win-win situation, and definitely a valid excuse for lateness!
Showing posts with label late. Show all posts
Showing posts with label late. Show all posts
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Valid Excuse #1: I can't get my zipper undone
Being as temperatures have decided to dip to -500 degrees, I’ve been wearing my ski jacket everywhere. Saturday, the puller thing (which I’ll be calling “the puller thing”) which attaches to the thing that actually zips and unzips the little teeth (which I’ll call “the zipper” for common sense’s sake) broke off. No biggie. I’ll just pinch the zipper with my fingers and pull it up and down like I normally do when I break the puller thing off of other zippers. It’ll still work, right? Wrong.
Apparently ergonomic engineers for ski jackets have decided that their zippers will lock in place until a wire, or thread, or potentially a very stiff cat hair can pass through the hole in the little nubbin of zipper and push some tiny magical release button. Oh – but you only need to find and push the tiny button to UNZIP the zipper. Zipping it up works no matter what state of gimpyness the zipper’s in.
So, I zipped up my broken zipper. Ate dinner with my boyfriend. Showed up for work late and, like a whirlwind, ran across the theatre lobby, unzipping my coat as I ran. Or, trying to. The zipper didn’t budge. Weird. I got to the locker room and tried again. Maybe my angle was off. Nope. My zipper is locked underneath my chin. I’m doomed to forevermore walk around like a snowman in a straight jacket.
Starting to feel a little claustrophobic, I tried to lift the collar around my head. Head too fat. But I had to be in the theatre’s Tim Hortons 10 minutes ago! So, ducking my head, I flipped the jacket inside out and tried to pull. Succeeded in getting the stupid collar lodged around my mouth and nose; the rest of the jacket dangled somewhere below my head. Couldn’t see, talk, breath – you know, the life essentials – when one of the other girls comes into the locker room. I’m sure I was quite a sight as I flailed around like a new species of ghost, or monster: the jacket monster! The girl asks if I want her to pull. I motion “Yes” as best I can with my limited mobility. No dice. She says she has a knife if I want to try that. I seriously considered it, but decided on a, "No, it's OK."
As I now needed to explain my lateness, as well as potential inability to work, I wrestle the jacket back down around my neck like an overlarge burka and run down the theatre wing toward the office. From the neck down, I'm a cineplex employee in full uniform. From the neck up - Jacket Monster!!
Guests stare at me as I ring the buzzer to get into the office. "Yes?" "ICAN'TGETMYCOATOFFANDI'MSUPPOSEDTOWORKAT6". They open the door. Six managers stare at me and my blue burka. I tell them I can't get my zipper undone. One by one they try it - thinking I'm retarded, no doubt. First manager fails. Second manager stands in the background laughing. Third manager fails. Fourth and fifth managers watch, laughing. Sixth comes up with the genius idea to use a paper clip to push the secret button. Yay! I'm free! And now I have a valid excuse for being late to work.
The end. (I've been told I need to come up with a better ending. Maybe my next post will be the completely untrue tales of the jacket that never ever came off until I went scuba diving and was rescued by porpoises...)
Apparently ergonomic engineers for ski jackets have decided that their zippers will lock in place until a wire, or thread, or potentially a very stiff cat hair can pass through the hole in the little nubbin of zipper and push some tiny magical release button. Oh – but you only need to find and push the tiny button to UNZIP the zipper. Zipping it up works no matter what state of gimpyness the zipper’s in.
So, I zipped up my broken zipper. Ate dinner with my boyfriend. Showed up for work late and, like a whirlwind, ran across the theatre lobby, unzipping my coat as I ran. Or, trying to. The zipper didn’t budge. Weird. I got to the locker room and tried again. Maybe my angle was off. Nope. My zipper is locked underneath my chin. I’m doomed to forevermore walk around like a snowman in a straight jacket.
Starting to feel a little claustrophobic, I tried to lift the collar around my head. Head too fat. But I had to be in the theatre’s Tim Hortons 10 minutes ago! So, ducking my head, I flipped the jacket inside out and tried to pull. Succeeded in getting the stupid collar lodged around my mouth and nose; the rest of the jacket dangled somewhere below my head. Couldn’t see, talk, breath – you know, the life essentials – when one of the other girls comes into the locker room. I’m sure I was quite a sight as I flailed around like a new species of ghost, or monster: the jacket monster! The girl asks if I want her to pull. I motion “Yes” as best I can with my limited mobility. No dice. She says she has a knife if I want to try that. I seriously considered it, but decided on a, "No, it's OK."
As I now needed to explain my lateness, as well as potential inability to work, I wrestle the jacket back down around my neck like an overlarge burka and run down the theatre wing toward the office. From the neck down, I'm a cineplex employee in full uniform. From the neck up - Jacket Monster!!
Guests stare at me as I ring the buzzer to get into the office. "Yes?" "ICAN'TGETMYCOATOFFANDI'MSUPPOSEDTOWORKAT6". They open the door. Six managers stare at me and my blue burka. I tell them I can't get my zipper undone. One by one they try it - thinking I'm retarded, no doubt. First manager fails. Second manager stands in the background laughing. Third manager fails. Fourth and fifth managers watch, laughing. Sixth comes up with the genius idea to use a paper clip to push the secret button. Yay! I'm free! And now I have a valid excuse for being late to work.
The end. (I've been told I need to come up with a better ending. Maybe my next post will be the completely untrue tales of the jacket that never ever came off until I went scuba diving and was rescued by porpoises...)
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