Head Over Heels

I fell off my shoes today.

You read that right.

I FELL off my fucking SHOES.

Here's what happened:  I pulled into the parking lot, grabbed my handbag, a 33.8oz bottle of water and a snazzy portfolio containing today's must dos.  I was wearing an adorable pair of capris with a black v-neck top, and a coordinating pair of grey & black patterned pumps from 9 West. 

I love these shoes. 

They have pointy toes, show a bit of toe cleavage and have cute spiky little heels.  They aren't too high -- just 3 inches.  I have lots of shoes higher than 3 inches.  Lots. 

As I headed towards the building, George greeted me.  He just bought a new car and wanted to show it to me.  So I changed directions and walked towards George's new car.  My heel must have lighted on a pebble, because my foot wobbled and then. . . .crash.

I mean CRASH.

My handbag went flying.  The bottle of water rolled away.  The portfolio burst open and today's tasks littered the parking lot. 

George tried to stop my fall, but having taken a spill or two in the past, I knew it was better to just fall.  I instinctively tucked my arms in, landed on my side and rolled to my back.  My shoes swung helplessly in the air. 

Shut up.

Then I got up, dusted myself off, admired George's car and slightly limped back into to building.  I told George that I was fine. 

I was fine.

Until 10 seconds later when George gets the following message over his walkie talkie:

GEORGE YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO DO A REPORT ON THAT SLIP AND FALL

I said "George -- who the fuck was that?"

He said, "Oh, that's Angie.  She's on East Campus"

East Campus?  East Campus is like three miles away.  She saw me from three miles away?

"She saw you on the camera."

On the CAMERA.


It's not that I've never fallen in a humiliating way before. 

In High School, my BFFS Karen, Fran, Leslie, Liz & Kristen decided to do a girls night at Carlos Murphy's.  Just to be clear, it was the '80s, it was the suburbs, and Carlos Murphy's was a fun fresh concept and not a tired ass cliche.

We were wearing our requisite mini skirts with flats (mine were yellow) (Shut UP).  Our hair was as high as Aqua Net could make it.  We had stylishly accentuated eyes, lips, and cheekbones.  We?  Were GORGEOUS.

Heads turned to watch as the six of us made our way to the table. 

I remember the sound of glasses clinking, murmured conversations, sizzling fajitas and cheesy Motown  hits.  I don't remember the sound of the hostess saying "Watch your step".

Know what happens when you miss a step on glossy sautillo tile while wearing yellow Payless flats?

You fall face first under a family of five who are enjoying a blooming onion.  At least one of your shoes flies far, far away. 

Fast forward a few years, and I am in Santa Monica, CA at my first job at Enterprise Rent a Car.

I'm hung over, wearing glasses for a change because I seem to have stored my contact lenses in gin instead of saline.  Ow.  I'm wearing a tight skirt, cream colored top (with a fresh coffee stain) and Payless heels.  The heels were worn away to the nails, because at ERAC, we spent all of our time tottering around parking lots to rent the cars.  Cheap shoes were a must back then.

It was my turn to take donuts to Lynch Motors on Santa Monica Boulevard.  I held two boxes of donuts and a gigantic roll of green stickers.  We are supposed to give the service guys the donuts, and put the stickers with our phone number on their phone.  The donuts are balanced on one hand, the stickers are in the other.

I walk down the service bay when both feet suddenly skid out from under me and I land squarely on my back with -- sigh -- both feet in the air.  Again.. 

The donuts go flying and the roll of stickers rolls all the way to the showroom. 

The reason that incident was so humiliating was that every car in Los Angeles was driving past Lynch Motors at that exact second.  Everyone I came in contact with all day said "Are you OK?!  I saw you wipe out in front of Lynch Motors!"

If I had time, I could tell story after story of me falling on my face in front of someone. 

In fact, I have another story here.

Falling is nothing new for me.

But today?  It's on CAMERA.





Similar to the pair I wore today.  My shoes have improved in quality, but not stability.

 

Big Mouth

When I was 5 my neighbor Mike was being mean to me. 

In order to get back at him, I said in my sternest Olive Oyl voice:  "You. . .you. . you . . .BRUTE!"

"Shut up Big Mouth" was his reply.

My mother heard us fussing and told me to be kind to Mike.

"Shut up Big Mouth" was my reply.  (Hey -- it worked for Mike). 

Of course, I got a spanking.  A spanking I remember 40 years later.  Don't ever tell my mom to shut up.  Also, don't call her a bitch. . .but that's a story from the teen files. 

Here's the thing.  Mike was right.

I am a Big Mouth.

I have no inner filter.  If it comes in my head, I say it.

I am the person who says what everyone else is thinking but has the good sense to keep it to themselves.

When my leadership group used a cartoon of 6 kids in a spaceship as a "symbol" of our team, I pointed to the redhead & said "This is me".  I pointed to the cute black girl & said "This one is [Black friend's name]!".  Everyone else looked embarrassed.  I don't know why they were embarrassed.  [Black friend] knows she's black.  She also knows she's cute. 

I guess it wasn't polite. 

Yesterday I was at a "town hall" meeting of sorts.  The goal of the meeting was to openly discuss issues at work.  The meeting was run by the President of the College.  The President of the College is the most awesomest awesome guy in the world next to Greg A.  I love this guy like a brother.  He is an incredible friend and leader and mentor. 

He also has had a really tough year.  If you've read the newspapers at all last year, you know that FY 2010/2011 was a tough year for higher ed.  It was a horrible year, but at least we had him at the helm.  He made the hard decisions that needed to be made.  He protected the staff as much as he could.  When someone needed to take the fire, he took it.

The last thing I want to do is make his life harder.

The meeting was attended by lots of people.  All of them care about our organization.  Some of them don't like the decisions that have been made.  They haven't been shy about venting their spleens via the organization-wide e-mail system.  They have a right to make themselves heard.  Open and candid discussion is important.  I truly believe this.

I also believe that words are powerful and that the words one chooses to use have an impact.

In other words, there is a way to complain without whining.

Unfortunately, group e-mails at our organization tend to be less about constructive criticism and more about anger.

When I mentioned something along those lines in the town hall meeting, I should have chosen my words more carefully.

Or maybe I should have just kept it to myself.

I'm sorry Dr. E!  I didn't mean to open the can of worms.  I didn't mean to make things harder on you. 

I'm such a Big Mouth.