Historically, I have an amazing ability to get myself into situations that are the equivalent of me sticking my foot in my mouth and while it's resting there comfortably somehow managing to get the other one in there too. It's really quite amazing. Here is an example:
First let me begin by saying that my gut reaction to any level of awkwardness is to start yammering uncontrollably. The greater the level of awkward the more I talk.
I had been employed at the college for about 5 or 6 months. We had been having repeated issues with a certain piece of equipment in the department and I had been charged with maintenance and repair of said equipment. After having ascertained that the computer was a hunk of junk (I personally replaced the hard drive three times in 6 months.) I decided I was going to ship the computer back to the bio-tech company it had just come from not two weeks before. So I needed a box.
Here is some background: In the department there is an un-named professor that is just a smidge eccentric. They're all scientists, so when they show up in clothes there is somewhat of a to-do made about them because let's face it, scientists are flighty sometimes and clothes are somewhat of a tertiary priority, but this professor is a little more eccentric than the rest of them. He kind of makes you scratch your head and mumble things like: "Okay." and "Really?"
One of my duties in the department is to deal with perishable packages if they haven't been picked up by the addressee. I open other people's packages routinely. They're okay with it.
I scrounge around the department for a box and cannot find one. I've invaded everyone's secret box stashes and no one has a box big enough for a computer tower. Lo and behold, a box of appropriate proportions is in the front office. It has been in the office in the same spot for two weeks now. You've ascertained correctly that it belongs to "The Eccentric, but creepy Professor."
We've established in earlier posts that I am not a patient person. The computer should have been out the door 15 minutes ago. I'm also of a somewhat excitable nature so I'm starting to become agitated. I'm beginning to panic.I'm now equating my job security with finding a box. I'm desperate. The urgency of finding a suitable box is quite pressing. I make a decision. (I find that it is unusually easy for me to make decisions when I'm in these moods.) I'm going to open the package and deliver the contents to "Captain Eccentric's" office and use the box.
I walk the 5 feet across the office with an air of entitlement. (It helps to have confidence in these moments, otherwise you'll chicken out and then look like a fool, even worse: A fool without a box.) I open the box and as I am removing the contents of said box guess who walks in the door? Senor Creepy Pants!
At this moment the three people in the office egging me on and aiding and abetting my decision literally run away. One leaves the front office completely and the other two hide in the supply closet. They were like rats deserting a sinking ship. They tied me to the mast and sacrificed me to the Kraken.
I immediately start to ramble. Uncontrollably. We were quickly approaching Awkward-ville at warp speed so I'm pretty sure I didn't take a breath for at least two minutes. My logic was that if I regurgitated everything I knew as fast as I could, not only would I have to think but he wouldn't have time to think because he would be too distracted by my diatribe on the value of goats in Middle Eastern nomadic cultures to be upset that I had opened his package and were in the process of stealing his box.
I'm told it was a command performance (the mutinous office staff were listening from behind the door) and to his credit Professor Eccentric wasn't too perturbed, disturbed or otherwise. The only real consequences were that I now presently feel compelled to repeat this filibustering everytime I see him. Needless to say I spend a lot of time ducking in alcoves and peeking around corners at work.
And after all of that I still didn't get box. But I do still have my job.
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