Friday, December 7, 2007

My unlucky black pumps

It's just been one of those days.

Today, after my staff meeting and before heading back to my school, I went to Chipolte (my favorite) with my friend Mari.

As we walked out of Chipolte, I noticed that I had a flat tire. And when I say flat, I mean flat. Rim on the ground, not a drop of air left. True to my anxious form, I started flipping out and cursing my black pumps. Not to get off topic, but you may remember what happened the last time I wore these shoes- I ended up on a search and rescue mission through the forest outside of the elementary school looking for a gun. Apparently, although very cute, these babies are tres unlucky.

Anyways, to get back on track, I did what any other girl would do (freak out, call mom crying) and then obviously call every boy that comes to mind. Not surprisingly, most 26 year old males are at work on Fridays at 12pm. That wasn't going to work. Instead, Mari and I spent a few minutes scouring our brains, coming up with the names of a few male coworkers who would be nearby (also leaving the meeting). Amazingly, this task is much harder than one might think. Out of the 70 or so psychological staff members in our county, about 6 are males. Four of which are at least 60 yrs old.

So of course, being the rational person that I am, I began cursing the fact that I went into a female oriented profession. Yeah, psychology is great, except when you have a flat tire.

Luckily, Duane (one of the few male psychs under 60) came to rescue Mari and I. However, while we were waiting outside, in the freezing rain/sleet no less for Duane's arrival, no more than three guys walked by to heckle and stare. Yes, my tire is flat. Would you like to help? Apparently not.

One man even pulled into the spot next to me, narrowly missing my stupid black pump by about a quarter of an inch, got out of his car and said, "Look a flat tire!" before continuing on his merry way into Chipolte. Thanks captain obvious. Now I remember why I became a psychologist, in an attempt to help people like you.

Anyways, no thanks to the peanut gallery standing outside staring, Duane was able to save my life (not only am I anxious, but also a little dramatic). He was nice enough to follow me the entire way home from the meeting (about 20 mins) to make sure my donut didn't fall off, and didn't leave me behind until I pulled into the VW dealership.

I know, the sane thing would have been to take the tire to the nearest gas station, however, no more than 2 months ago, I just dropped $1,200.00 on these shiny new tires and rims. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to pass inspection. So yes, I pull my Jetta right up in there, got out of the car and said excuse me, but I'm mad (I'm on a first name basis with the Jetta guy). He just laughed and said you're lucky you are so pretty.

Nice, I was really hoping to get sexually harassed after this already lovely day. Anyways, once in awhile you gotta let the sexual harassment go, because he got down on his hands and knees and fixed my tires. Apparently the parking lot is a dangerous place, because a lovely, 4 inch long metal shard was stuck in my tire tread. Not only that, but he gave me one of those air pressure checkers for a Christmas gift (b/c I was so cute) and refilled the rest of my tires. I felt as though I could let it slide this time.

So yes, now I'm finally home, after three hours bitching and moaning and missing very important work events that needed to be done by today.

Thank god it's the weekend.

2 comments:

Amanda said...

Ashley! Do you seriously not know how to change a tire?! Woman! I am teaching you the next time I see you. What if you were all by yourself and it was nighttime? I can barely even drive and I know how to do this ...

I'm glad you're okay, and I'm sorry you had such a crapola day. And I didn't know you had a blog.

Ashley said...

haha well.. the blog is relatively new and I now know how to change a tire. phew.

I have actually been worrying about getting a flat lately. Go figure, it happened.