​volunteered to chaperone Vanessa’s class trip the zoo when she was in kindergarten.  On the school bus I sat with Vanessa next to me and in the row behind her teacher. We were still about a half hour from our destination when I started to play around on my phone. And as always, once I got stuck in trying to solve a puzzle in my word game – I started shopping. I was first looking at some shoes and then my fingers wandered over into the digital aisle for lingerie.  I was adding things to my cart when a small person popped up from the seat behind us.  She was leaning on the top of the back of our seat when I felt the presence of her little face next to mine.  “Ohhh pretty underwear!” she said in a squeaky voice that put the most emphasis on the word underwear. Around me I heard the sound of 5-year-old giggles and snickers – even Vanessa was laughing and all too loudly asked “Mommy – what are you looking at?”. As these questions were flying around and kids were laughing, Vanessa’s teacher turned around and just looked at me.  I apologized explaining matter-of-factly that yes, I must have accidentally clicked on one of those pop-up ads featuring an angel woman wearing wings and lace lingerie. “Ads are so annoying" I said while rolling my eyes to really prove I felt that way. 
Moment of silence. 
“Aren’t you in advertising?”  she asked dryly. 
Huh. Well, yes. So I am. I thought.

Speaking of…a few days later I was at my desk when the receptionist delivered a box. I knew right away it was the underwear I ordered after getting home from the field trip. I had it sent to work so Adam didn’t have a cow that I was shopping again.  Like a kid on Christmas any time I get a box with the things I’ve ordered, I started to rip up the tape like a wild woman. So no one would see me today, I had the box on the floor and was checking out the goods.  As I was crouched down behind my desk, someone walked into the room.  I was still leaning over towards the box when I lifted up my head to see Karen from HR standing in front of me with something in her hand.  "This was on the copier” she said. I reached my hand across the desk to take the papers from her and across that same desk swung a pair of lace hot pink thongs with a pretty bow in the back.  I quickly went to pull them from my sleeve and realized the lace had gotten caught on the clasp of my bracelet. Something I couldn’t do if I was intentionally inventing a new fashion accessory that included bangle charms and panties. She and I held onto the papers and onto each other’s awkward stares for a beat too long.  Somewhat uncomfortably, she just turned and walked out. I sat there for a moment wondering if I was going to end up a pedophile list thanks to X-rated shopping on the bus or a “do not hire” list. What other trouble could I get into with these underwear?! And how would I explain to friends, family and any upstanding citizen that the cause of my demise was a pair of hot pink lace thongs with a pretty bow in the back?  Or maybe it was just my Mid-life crisis to blame again. Eeeek!

​At one of my jobs, I was a part of a pretty important pitch team.  And while I knew my section of the presentation inside and out, I was still nervous about presenting.  I sat with other colleagues as we waited to be called into the meeting room for our turn. As the moments ticked on, I was getting more and more jittery.  And I wasn't the only one – everyone had their own way to pass the time: someone was pacing, another reading over his notes, someone else chugging water (I swear she had three bottles in two minutes.), and someone else kept showing us memes from Facebook. Seeing - and likely feeling - the stress, our boss encouraged us to stand up and stretch.  In the large lobby we were tucked over in a corner and fairly hidden away. Our small group of four, wearing our suits and smart dresses, gathered around our boss. She took a deep breath in and channeling her own mellow – yet empowerment method - she popped into her "power pose".   Her arms were stiff in the air in a “V” shape, opposite to her legs in the same shape but upside down.  Her head was back towards the sky, her eyes were closed, and in a soothing, breathy voice she was telling us to feel confident and strong.  Like I also do when I am in exercise groups with my eyes closed, I opened just one eye and looked around to see if everyone else was in the power pose. Everyone was – but I just wasn’t feeling it. I quietly sat down and reached into my purse and fished around for a medicine bottle.  When I pulled it out, everyone heard the rattle and looked over.  All I said while twisting the lid was that “yoga moves and breathing was one way to deal with stress, but this was mine.” And I popped a Xanax without regret or hesitation. 

​I love to eat. If I need to be on a diet, I can totally cut back - even starve if I have to. But when I am allowing myself to eat – I do.  I love the three C’s: carbs, chocolate and cheese. Which all impact the three H’s: hips, heart and happiness. I am a tall, full-figured woman with a little more in a lot of places (except my boobs – they are like speedbumps on my curvy highway. Sigh).    But sometimes I am embarrassed of how much I can actually consume. And in this one instance, it’s not embarrassing but brilliant. I think, anyway.  

Around the holiday season many baskets of cookies, food, fruit and the like get delivered to offices.  In my field, they are usually sent from vendors, freelancers, media partners, even clients. For the most part, they are addressed to one person on the team or in the agency. That person normally takes a little bit for themselves and brings the rest to the breakroom, which by mid-December looks like an exploding cornucopia of excusable calories. 

One year I got a tower of goodies from a local bakery.  The gift was about six boxes tall and each one got smaller in size as they stacked up to an enormous red bow. Our receptionist Janell, brought me my delivery and handed me the card that went along with it. I deliberately read it out loud “To Nicole & Team – Thanks for all of your hard work and efforts! You are amazing and Nicole is a great lead on the account”.  I smiled and looked up at Janell; she told me that it was a nice card – I agreed. 

I tore into the bottom box and took out an apple and a pear, from other boxes I took a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and one with vanilla cookies filled with jam, a package of chocolate covered raisins and a little bag of almonds.  I then brought the rest of the boxes into the kitchen to be devoured shortly after placing them on the table. 

I spent the next few days eating my treats. Yes. I ate it all. Don’t judge.  I had the card hanging up on my corkboard behind my desk.  One of my better friends at the company walked in and remarked on the nice note and asked who it was from, because she noticed, it wasn’t actually signed.  I started to laugh. 

“It’s from me.”, I answered.
“You wrote that card?” she asked 
“Yup.”  I waited for her to figure things out a little further.
It clicked. “Did you send yourself that delivery”? 
“Yup!” I said laughing. “I sure did.  I do think I am doing a great job and I am a great leader and I wanted a giant tower of food that I could dive into first.”  
“Oh my God! You’re insane!” 
“Yea well I left you a sleeve of cookies, a bag of nuts and a mini-muffin on your chair.”
“Oh my God! You’re the best!” 
“I know! Wait until you see the wine I sent myself!”

​I am a pretty anal-retentive person…I might even have a touch of OCD. I never really had it looked into because well, I have a host of other crazy behaviors that probably need more focus than being annoyingly organized and regimented.  In this instance, my routine is about the end of the work day. Each night before leaving I do the “day’s end” lap .  I walk to the printer to check that I have gotten all of my print-outs (especially the personal ones like coloring pages for Vanessa, softball schedules for Ella or online shopping receipts for me).  I stop at the bathroom and then go through the kitchen to fill a water bottle for the ride home.  Finally, I head back to my desk to pick-up my parking pass, car keys and purse.  On this particular day, I was ready to by-pass the printer to go straight to the bathroom since I had so much water throughout the day.  But because I am this person of habit, I started the norm with an overly full bladder.   Tapping my foot and doing a little dance to keep from peeing my pants, I waited for what seemed like forever for the printer to  finish printing all of my documents.  I couldn’t even fathom going over the water cooler with having to go to the bathroom on my mind.  After practically pulling the last page of my print-out from the copier, I broke routine and ran on the tips of my pink high-heeled shoes to the bathroom.  On a mission,  I pushed open the door like a sailor on his first time home to his bride.  I chose the first stall because it was closest and barley even locked the door behind me before I had one hand yanking down my pants to take position.    Now – I know that the cleaning people come each night and I know the asses of my fellow co-workers but I still find the need to hover over the bowl – no skin to porcelain contact.  With the pressure of the bladder bursting open, my stream was as solid and fierce as water from a fire hose.   I was a bit embarrassed of how loud it was when I realized someone was in the stall next to me.  As I moved just slightly to collect some toilet-paper, albeit while I was still engaged in going, my body shifted and my big ol’ rear moved away from the bowl.   I suddenly heard the sound of my pee hitting the water change to my pee hitting the floor. I moved back into a target-right position and  when finished, I bent down to clean up the little puddle on the floor. It was then that I actually saw the feet in the next stall.  I know those manicured toes peeking out from the sensible beige shoes.   It was my boss.  And there were little droplets of my pee on the side of her shoe! Yikes!!  I stood there with my face frozen.  In fact, I think I stopped breathing.  When I heard her flush, I started silently mouthing the words “fuck” over and over and praying that she’d leave the bathroom pronto so I didn’t have to meet her at the sink.  Once I heard the bathroom door open and assumed she walked out,  I used my foot to press down the handle to flush and instantly regretted having on pretty unique shoes -  if she saw them it would be telltale that I was the offender. Just to be safe, I never wore those same shoes again.  And neither did she.  Her, for better reason.

A few years ago I worked a PR event with a celebrity guest of honor, Charles Spencer, 9th Earl Spencer. I don’t really follow that royal stuff but it was very exciting to meet an actual Prince.   Or maybe he was a Lord.  I don’t know – he had a fancy name and was Princess Diana’s brother (I really rocked this PR job…nothing like knowing the details! Eeek!)   In the green room we had tea – I am guessing because he was English and they seem to like their tea time.  (Shit – I am really making a lot of assumptions here!) So I am going to say that this was not one of my better career moments.  And for more than just these brainless things……

While the Prince/Lord was relaxing before his appearance and enjoying his hot, lemony brew, I worked hard to make sure the pastry plates, tea pots, tea bag box and sugar bowls were always full for the guests going in and out prior to the actual event start.  I also kept the room clean – throwing away unsightly used teabags or half eaten treats.

As Charles was talking to someone, I started to clean up a bit and collected teacups that were sitting around the room, seemingly finished. Just as I walked towards the back of the room, I heard him say “someone has gone and thrown away my tea”.  With his lovely English accent, it was hard for me to tell if he was pissed (doesn't everything sound better when someone says it with a nice accent?)

I kept my back towards him while I hovered over a garbage can. If he saw my face he would know I had tossed his drink since I was beat red and my mouth was open so wide, I could have caught flies.  Or maybe I just filled up with air because I can’t even believe what I did next – I actually spun around holding a blue and white porcelain cup with a drop of liquid in it and a gnarly, used teabag plopped on the saucer and said to this Royal guy “I think this was it….?" and sort of handed it to him.

He looked at me like I was crazy for offering him a cold cup of tea that could have belonged to anyone.  Not to mention that I practically just pulled it out of the garbage can.

I felt like I was having an outer body experience – looking down on myself saying “Stop standing there with this gross offering. Just turn and walk away.”

Before he could respond to me, a colleague said she’d get him a fresh cup. She too looked at me like I was an idiot.  Yes, well cheerio, I was definitely going to hide in a pile rubbish….and do a little thinking about my next career move.