I don’t know how my coworkers know precisely when I need to leave the office, but they always know. I could be looking for something to do all day long, yet the only time they come sniffing around is five minutes before I have to go. The bus line that runs to southcenter only comes around once an hour–I wanted to catch the 3:30 bus, so sure enough, at 3:10, five minutes before I’d need to walk out the door to make it happen, a coworker called with an urgent problem. At 4:10, there was another task to be done–I swore, completed it as quickly as possible, and ran out the door.
Onebusaway.org is a tool of the devil that masquerades as something useful. The other day, I sat at a bus stop for forty minutes and watched a bus that was perpetually seven minutes away be delayed by 7,9,11,12,14,16,19,23 minutes and watched the NEXT bus in line pass it. Was the bus abducted by aliens? Disappear into the Benson Road Triangle? Have a bomb strapped onto it that require that its speed not go above 1mph? All I can see is how far away the bus is compared to what time it should arrive. Yesterday, in an attempt to make up for lost time, I picked a bus stop that was near equidistant from my workplace but would require the bus to (hopefully) run into a few more red lights, increasing my chances of catching it. Unfortunately, this forced me down a street with no sidewalks, just tall grass, shrubs, and mud, which I picked my way through as quickly as possible, all while checking the real-time arrival info on my phone. The tool indicated that the bus was two minutes away; I began to jog, then sprint through the shrubs and mud, but I was over a block away when I watched the bus go by. The tool of the devil had given me hope and made me run for nothing.
At that point, I had two choices–I could stand around for an hour, or I could walk the rest of the way to southcenter. I reasoned that I could use the exercise and I would arrive at my destination at approximately the same time regardless, so I continued down the road.
I was very nearly at my destination when I felt compelled to reach back and check for my wallet…and it was no longer in my pocket. Maybe I had put it in my backpack! Or another pocket! I frantically began to pat myself down on the street like I was pantomiming The Universal Airport Experience. No, no wallet. Not in another pocket. Not in my bag. Just gone. Immediately, I began to panic. What am I going to do? My life is in that wallet! My driver’s license, social security card, insurance cards, my debit card, my dilettante mocha card that was very nearly full of punches at five dollars a crack–this was a problem. My rational brain tried to take control. “Panic is not going to do any good. Turn around and start backtracking. You will find it or someone else will and they will return it to you.” “No, they are going to steal my identity and empty my bank account and take my free mocha and…” “START WALKING.” “STOP BOSSING ME AROUND, I AM TRYING TO PANIC HERE. HOW AM I GOING TO GET NEW ID WHEN I DON’T HAVE ANY ID?” “MOVE.” So I started back the way I had come; passersby must have thought I looked like a wild animal having a heart attack, the way I was clutching at my shirt, eyes bulging and flicking rapidly from side to side. My panic brain piped up again. “See, it could have fallen out of the pocket and bounced into the bushes on the side, or out into the street where it could have been hit by a car, skittered across the road, been hit by another car, knocked into a drainage vent…we’re never going to find it. You might as well give into the panic.” “No, just keep your eyes open and it’s bound to turn up.” “Oh yeah? Remember the run through the shrubs and brush? How are you going to find it in that mess? It’s time to panic.” “Fuck, you’re right.”
Panic ensued.
After I had walked back a mile, just as I about to throw a full-fledged tantrum, I saw a thick silver rectangle sitting on the sidewalk ahead. Could it be…? Were my eyes playing tricks…? It was my wallet, sitting squarely in the middle of the sidewalk.
I experienced a moment of relief so pure that I found myself no longer able to stand. In that moment, I collapsed onto the sidewalk, crying hysterically, cradling my wallet, hugging it, as if it wasn’t a traitorous piece of property that had attempted to escape further contact with my ass just recently. As I lay there in the fetal position, sobbing, my rational brain having given up to gibber in a corner, the next bus blasted by.
Eventually I pulled myself upright, used the heels of my hands to attempt to wipe off all of the mascara that had run down my cheeks during my fit, and started back down the road to southcenter.
Ashley and I got in line shortly before the event was due to start and were still among the first people in the store. When one of the oiled-up male models offered me a necklace, I almost lost control of my knees again, and immediately felt the deep sort of shame one feels when one looks a goddamn mess and they’re standing next to perfection.
I learned my lesson from the Style Warriors event and bought the things I wanted immediately, and then was free to sip drinks, nosh, and staaaaare. Ashley was looking for a red lipstick that didn’t pull orange on her and wasn’t brown-toned, and I recommended Russian Red but suggested we ask the fab MA who kept coming around to check on us…who also suggested Russian Red. This was a vindicating moment for me, especially since earlier in the week, I had been dismissed by one of my heroes on facebook as ‘too young to know anything’ about lipstick that wouldn’t feather on older skin. DAMN IT, I KNOW THINGS. I DO.
Ahem.
Anyway, vindicated, I felt brave enough to take a photo with some hot, hot men, even with my puffy, streaky face.
Wait, no, I was hiding behind Ashley. NOW I’m brave enough to take a photo with some hot, hot men. Or at least poke my face out.
My boss shows up in my office 20 minutes before the end of the day – EVERY DAY.
and then bitches about politics.
My coworkers are also ‘good’ about showing up and needing something the precise moment when my food is at the most delicious temperature. By the time I am done with whatever it is that they need OMGRIGHTNOW, it is lukewarm and significantly less delicious.
ME TOO!!!!
I even have a coworker that smells my food, comes into my office and asks what I’m eating. Sometimes she’ll ask for the recipe or detailed instructions on how to cook it.
AND I HAVE MY OWN PRIVATE OFFICE
ME TOO.
I need to shut and lock my door at lunchtime.
Me too.
We need to start an office etiquette class. It should open with “We work together. I like you. Not enough to extend my day or eat cold food.”
Also: never keep your social security card in your wallet. EVER.
We clear?
Good.
I could have sworn that you were supposed to carry it around with you, but looking at the card, it says nothing of the sort. I need to get a safe or lockbox or some other sort of thing for important documents in my place, right now my passport is in one place, my birth certificate another, my car title was in still another… Organization is not my strong suit.
It’s probably safer sitting anywhere in your apartment than in your wallet. Once they have your SSN, identity theft is a breeze.
Plus, you’ll probably only ever need your SScard when you start a new job.
Point taken, I will remove it from my wallet when I get home today. I’m also thinking about starting to carry a purse like a big girl instead of in my inadequately small back pockets.
Do we need to take up a collection and get you one of those wallets with a chain?
No, I don’t really need to exude any more ‘white trash man’ than I do already.
No, you’re not supposed to carry it. The ONLY time you’ll ever need it is if you start a new job, or apply for a passport, something like that. Beyond that, never carry it!
I’ll tell you a horror story sometime about a client of mine who carried hers and had her wallet stolen. Identity theft, ahoy!
didja really have a lovescene with your wallet?
Why would I lie about that?
I dunno. Those men are way too oily though.
I maintain that they aren’t oily enough.
These pictures definitely make me feel inadequate, but I don’t feel too bad because I’ve never lost my wallet.
Well, lah-dee-dah, I get to feel inadequate on BOTH counts.
I’m gloating now, because of how inadequate I get to feel in Krav Maga class. Number one thing I’ve learned so far: humility and just how old I am.
I don’t even need to do KravMaga to learn how old I am, I just need to dance for a couple of hours at a wedding in heels and then feel like muscles-screaming-death for days afterward.
The worst part is the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the room, so I can watch myself be a fat, pale, old and sweaty guy the whole time.
Yeah, pretty much every gym has those, I find them incredibly DEmotivating. “Oh look at how sweaty, red, and fat I am, and how awkward and ungraceful I look. I don’t have to watch myself be a blob on the couch, maybe I should just go home.”
The best thing ever was on Friday. I found a class where most of the guys were about my age/fitness level. Except, of course, there’s always that one dude who’s just barely over 20 with washboard abs. Fuck that guy. He’s never my partner. lol Another humbling thing is when the instructor is like a 5′ tall woman who could obvious kick my ass without breaking a sweat who then proceeds to yell that I need to pick up the pace. Oh oh, this one time, the instructor kept pinching my cheek whenever I dropped my left. EMBARRASSING
Does embarrassment fuel better performance, do you think?
Umm…I definitely push myself not to look too ridiculous. Like, I’ve probably done more push ups in the last two weeks than I have in the last two years.
I know it would definitely help me if it involved punching because I’d probably punch that person in the face. 😀
glad you found but could you do a me a favor and take your social security card out, because that with your id and bank card is a bad bad bad combo. mmmmk? thx!
but if you need to tell me to bugger off, just trying to help. 🙂
Yeah, I probably shouldn’t carry it around, I need to be better about having a storage place for important documents in my apartment.
OR!!! she can leave all that info in there and write “Mothers Maiden name is ________________ ” on a piece of paper and leave it in there, too.
that should help things along.
“If you somehow manage to get credit using this info, please let me know how you did it because I sure as fuck can’t.”
ha! true story. few years ago carrie got a denial for credit to the pea and pod or some high end maternity store. the reason our credit was so bad that who ever stole our identity couldnt do shit. 🙂
My last roommate was paranoid about shredding all of her mail before throwing it away because she didn’t want her identity stolen. My thoughts were “Girl, you can’t even get a BANK ACCOUNT, what are you worried about?”
This is a very good point. How can others get further with my name than I can????
If my identity were to get stolen and those jokers end up qualifying to buy a car I’d *really* be pissed.
my credit score is so low, if my identity was stolen- the thief would charge ME for the inconvenience
Clearly you need to hook up with a fiscally responsible identity thief – one who will IMPROVE your credit before you get it back.
I am a Problem Solver! You’re welcome.
This is a good idea. Maybe I could hire myself out to people to steal their identities and fix their credit.
The problem is, how can you trust people with bad credit to pay you for your time on time?
Well, I would have their identities, yes?
this
Oh man.. .oh MAN.
I cannot tell you how many time I have acted out that same scene with my wayward wallets… And the one and FINAL time I lost my wallet which had everything it it, just like you… the only thing I ever got back from it was my ID.
I looked EVERYWHERE for that damn wallet. ID, SS, credit cards, tickets from past concerts, pictures of friends and family I treasured was in it. I was hysterical with worry and grief. After about 2 weeks I had given up on the matter, and was going to have to take a three hour drive home to get copies of my SS and get a new ID and all that… when My mom sent me some mail. I opened it up, and someone from the post office had sent me back my ID.
Frankly, it creeped me the hell out. I didnt expect to see anything like money or credit cards… but if they had my ID, what did they do with the REST of my stuff???
SOOOOOOOOOO long story short: I FEEL YOUR PAIN.
Odds are, someone stuck your id in the mailbox, but yeah, it’s like if they were conscientious enough to do that, why not return the whole thing?
seriously! wrap everything up in a rubber band and toss it in the mail box! sheesh!
Oh and another thing: Pretty men in tiny shorts. MMMMMMMM
And hey, me and the boytoy wanted to head up to Seattle for the day. What would you recommend?
Welllllll what sorts of things are you interested in? Popular tourist destinations? More wacky offbeat stuff? Shopping? Top-notch restaurants? If so, what kind of food do you want?
Welp, wanted to do the underground tour, but due to physical constraints, that’s out. Wacky offbeat stuff could definitely be up our alley though!
And it all depends what you mean by top-notch. We aint excatly classy folk, but my god, I would LOVE to go somewhere that isnt Taco Del Mar or the Supper Chinese Buffet. Matter of fact, I am seriously craving Italian or some American grill fair. I trust your seasoned judgment.
Yeah, the underground tour is a lot of walking and has no accessibility, unfortunately.
There’s Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe on the waterfront–they’ve got mummies and all sorts of crazy stuff; also on the waterfront are some restaurants, a sit-down, non-fast-food Ivars, the seattle aquarium, etc. In Fremont, there’s the troll and the metal Lenin, and Archie McPhee’s isn’t too far from Fremont, either.
In Pioneer Square, there’s Salumi which supposedly has orgasm-inducing sandwiches (have not made it there myself as they are only open for lunch). The Pink Door at Pike Place is supposed to have decent italian (and you get a show with dinner).
Any of this tickling your fancy?
OOOOH, the curiosity shoppe may just be the thing we could both enjoy!
metal lenin? muahahhaahaaaa
What the heck is Archie McPhee’s?
Thank you so much! Weather permitting we should be going out tomorrow ^^
Unless you know about something AMAZING that’s going on this weekend. Then I want to know. I want to be all cool, hip and fly too! Or something ^^
McPhee is the most wonderful place on earth.
I don’t know about anything in particular that’s going on this weekend, sorry. 🙁
I had a very similar freak out this week with my ring (yes, the one I “lost” for 7 years). Panic!
I was not aware this make-up event would involve oiled half naked male models. Dammit.
…maybe you and that ring are not meant to be together. Or we need to rivet it onto your finger or something.
Those guys were hired solely on their arts & crafts beach necklace assembling abilities, trufax.
I can never find a decent red lipstick that isn’t too orange or too pink.
Something about my fair complexion or something.
I promise it can be done. 🙂
Those boys were delicious. I would have bought the one instead of the lipstick, had he been for sale, and he would have been my house-boy and I would pay him in delicious foods to lay around in my bed all day and wash my car and stuff. NUMMY.
Thanks again for the excellent shopping and chats!!! Ladydates FTW!
Yes, we should have ladydates more often! 🙂
If I’d lost my wallet and found it unmolested when I traced back my steps, I would have scooped it up for an unabashed french kiss, so help me. It’s absolutely obscene that so much important stuff fits into a 4×5″ square of plastic/vinyl/leather.
Ugh. I’m glad you found it, that was so lucky. And at least you had oiled up beefcake to help with the post-panic. Score!
All the people who rail against the idea of a microchip implanted in the hand to be used as ID and for banking because of conspiracy theory malarky—I don’t understand them at all. I can lose my wallet in myriad ways. The only way I’m going to lose my hand is if someone cuts it off.
For me, it’s my car keys. If I don’t place them in the same strategic places (key ring hook or inside purse), I’m screwed. I will lose them. I should just have them surgically grafted to my hip via some nifty retractable cord or something.
I’m totally down with the microchip thing. Or maybe a little code bar tattoo that we could just get scanned with. Hell, one last thing (wallet) that I’d have to carry.
I understand the panic, but the scariest thing to me was the social security card…
You could get a Sentry fire safe (I have four of the file variety) and disguise it with a cardboard box/stack of boxes/something more interesting but not to a thief … perhaps a ottoman…
When I lose my wallet, I do it right. 🙁 glad you found it!