Many years ago, I worked for a high powered, fast-paced company. I rarely had the opportunity to leave the office; I handled visitors, managed phone calls, filed, and typed…a lot. It was a good job, but had no benefits, so I knew I wouldn’t be there long.
Anyway, one day my boss called me in to say she needed me to go with her the next day to a very important meeting. It seemed as though someone in the company had given out vital information to a rival corporation at a club in the city. In other words…they had a thief.
My boss knew that everyone in our department had to be elsewhere on business the next day, and I was the only employee who could go with her to prove her innocence. I trusted my boss completely. She had no reason to give out secrets, she made a great salary, and she was generous to a fault. So I was happy to go with her and help.
That night I left the office and ran out and bought a business-like dress. The next morning, I was wearing the dress, black pantyhose, and black heels. I had my hair pulled back and, in my opinion, looked very austere and imposing.
On the way to my boss’s house, where I was meeting her on that hot summer day, I stopped and bought myself a giant diet Coke. I was addicted. When I arrived at her home early, I figured she wouldn’t be ready yet, so I took my Coke and went in to sit down. A few minutes later she called me into her kitchen and asked me to help her carry a box a files to the car while she grabbed another box.
Now, this is where you all know me and are pretty much prepared for what I am about to say here.
Nothing I do or plan ever goes right…and of course, it didn’t this time either.
As I was going down the stairs from her kitchen to the den and subsequent carport, my heel got caught in one of the flagstone steps. Down I fell on my right knee and belly. My giant and very full Coke crashed to the den floor, while files flew out of the box and into the Coke puddles. My hair came out of the barrette and drooped into my face.
This was a disaster. And my beloved Coke was gone.
Scrambling up and staring at the mess…I really wanted to go home and cry. But this was the first time my boss had ever asked me to help, and I desperately wanted to impress her. But what a mess!
I pulled myself together and called up to the kitchen to say that I needed some towels badly. When she came to investigate, her eyes widened and she just stared. Then she sighed, brought me a bundle of towels and we began to clean up the mess.
Time was ticking and we knew we had quite a drive to get to the meeting with the CEO, so we rushed with clean towels and jumped into the car. While she drove, I mopped up files and dried them over the air conditioner vent. Then I reached under my wet dress and yanked off my torn pantyhose.
When we arrived at the meeting, I thought I looked presentable and professional again until I walked into the lobby with my stained files. The office administrator was there, took one look at me and with a concerned look on her face, asked what had happened.
Trying to laugh it off, I explained that I had fallen, and while I was explaining, she was rushing to get a first aid kit to clean up a nasty skinned knee that I was unaware I even had. At that moment, in walked the CEO and his entourage, and all attempts at trying to look professional went out the window as he asked what had happened and the whole story was repeated around the room.
I kept looking for a bag to put over my head.
Anyway, the meeting went on and as I finally paid attention to what was being said, I heard a man repeatedly say he couldn’t possibly have been the one to give out company details because he wasn’t even there and had never been there at that club.
Suspicious, I grabbed my cell phone and started looking though it. Cell phones had just become popular, and although I barely knew how to use mine, I started searching, and sure enough, that’s where I found it. A picture of him standing in that same club.
I quickly elbowed my boss and showed her the photo. Grabbing my phone, she held the photo out towards him and asked him to repeat his answer. Startled, he just stared. He had nothing to say after that.
As we left that day, I limped to the car, barelegged, hair straggling down my face, band aids all over my knee, a stained dress, thirsty and carrying Coke splotched files. But I had never felt better in my life. I did it. I caught him. God felt sorry for me and gave me a present. I was finally victorious.
But of course, with my rotten luck, that victory had to last me a long, long, long time.
