Like a Hippo Wearing HeelsPosted: July 20, 2013
I have mentioned before that I am not graceful.
If there were awards for being a royal klutz I would win. Hands down.
I mentioned before that I have quite a walk from the employee parking lot to my actual building. It is free, and I am cheap, so this makes me happy. I really don’t mind, and it seems like the path to work is, for the most part, hazard free. No cracks in the sidewalk, currently no construction, etc.
When I started the old job, I also did not mind the walk. However, I did mind paying to park in a parking lot that was owned by our company. Forty dollars a month to park, because they chose to lease the lot to a company who manages parking lots. Kind of a rip off. Always rubbed me the wrong way. I understand them wanting to lease it, but they should have still allowed our employees to park for free.
The walk to work there was not obstacle free. I had to cross a set of railroad tracks. I do now, however there is a flat area to walk across where you are not actually walking over the railroad ties and raised tracks. There were weeds, and sticky bushes that would reach out and snag my pants, skirts and stockings. Perpetual construction. The world’s most broken jagged sidewalk right in front of the Court House.
You could always count on there being someone standing on the corner by the Court House staring up at the jail. Sidewalk chalk messages written to inmates. Inmates screaming from the widows above down to their loved ones on the corner.
Real classy stuff.
I would usually try to hurry along when I was on the stretch of sidewalk in front of the Court House. Less likely to get caught in a screaming match from the jail, less likely to get caught doing the weird you go this way, I do that way dance on the sidewalk.
The sidewalk in front of the Court House is almost always broken in some way shape or form. I have never really understood it, but it is seriously one of the worst stretches of sidewalk anywhere.
Which is probably why I ended up face-down on the sidewalk on more than one occasion.
Caught my shoe on a jagged piece of cement, and down she goes.
Most times, I could catch myself.
More often than not actually.
You would think that after the first few times, I would have started wearing sneakers into the building, but I was too stubborn to do the whole switching shoes business.
The last time I fell, I tripped, just flew forward all in the momentum of my power walk, skinned both knees, ruined my pantyhose, ripped my skirt, and spilled a 20 oz to go cup of coffee all over my white shirt.
There was a round of applause from the open jail windows. I don’t remember, but it is quite possible that I may have had another dress up day incident.
I transferred to a new office shortly after that.