This is the mark on the floor of the kitchen at my office from when I completely WIPED OUT this morning:
I’ve sprained my ankles so many times that by now walking is practically risky behavior. Unfortunately this time I really whipped it around fast and had some nice sharp pain happening. Combine that with the fact that I had been nauseous all morning and I started to feel quite light headed. As you may or may not know, I have an extremely annoying passing out habit that I’ve been trying to bring to an end. Of course this was the first time I felt a faint coming on in a work setting, so that added a whole new level of embarrassment.
So I’m laying on the floor in a dress and one shoe while two of our senior level people, including the co-founder of the company, hover over me asking if I’m okay. I’m focused intently on a desperate attempt to not pass out and debating over whether I should warn them that it is a distinct possibility. The next thing I know they are both shouting my name and I’m busy trying to figure out where the hell I am and why the ceiling is spinning.
After I assured them that the whole passing out thing was fairly routine (yeah that went over well), I asked them how long I had been out. Apparently the 10-15 second period was enough time for them to consider calling 9-1-1. Wow. Despite the fact that I was still laying on the floor feeling dizzy and looking as white as a sheet, that was a moment of extreme thankfulness for me. Throwing screeching sirens, sarcastic paramedics, and bright orange backboards into that situation would have raised us to an echelon of mortification that frankly I don’t want to contemplate.
The best part was my boss (aka the CEO of my company) doesn’t work in my office so he had no idea any of this had happened. About a minute after I had made it back to my desk he skyped me and asked if I was “ready to jump into” this big project we are working on. This was my brilliant response:
I’ve really got to work on my milking-the-sympathy skills.