Bonehead
Has this ever happened to you?
No, of course it hasn't. This only happens to boneheads, of which I am one.
Let me explain.
I was sitting in a meeting last week. Not one of those soccer-scouts-church-neighborhood-band-PTA-unimportant evening meetings, but a real meeting, a professional meeting, a meeting full of hard-nosed engineers, a meeting during the day, a meeting where I had to be on the ball, pay attention, demonstrate acumen, show insight, and articulate vision. This was an adult meeting, a significant meeting, a meeting of utmost moment.
It was a meeting I was getting paid to be at.
We were gathered in a beautiful conference room on the 12th floor of a Washington office building. We sat at a large table, our laptops arrayed around us. I was positioned strategically at the table's head. It was mid-morning. A colleague stood to my right briefing upcoming plans. He was intent, serious. His message was important. My trusty green 1-quart Stanley thermos sat nearby on the table. As the planning session droned on, I picked up my thermos, curious whether I had any coffee left. I was fairly certain I had finished my daily allotment, but I wanted to make sure. I knew I had just drained the last of my home brew from the thermos top that served as my cup. But if there was more coffee in the thermos, I would take it. My thermos seemed empty. I shook it vigorously to confirm. Nope. No coffee. I gave a small, inaudible sigh. A bit more coffee sure would have made the morning go faster.
As I held the thermos upright in my lap, I looked ruefully at the thermos top sitting on the table, picked it up with absolute, unequivocal, 100 percent moral certainty it was empty, inverted it, and went to screw it in place.
Sploosh!
An inch of coffee dumped in my lap. Not only that... it was hot. I jumped up, interrupting the proceedings. Of course this was the day I chose to wear khakis rather than dark suit pants so it was immediately obvious to everyone in the room that something unpleasant involving a liquid had just happened to me. Paper napkins flew in my general direction to assist, but the cotton cloth of my pants had already soaked up everything.
If I had peed my pants I could not have made a stain that looked more like I peed my pants than this stain did. I made my way to the men's room out in the corridor praying with all the fervor I could muster that no one was present in the usually busy hallway. But, no, as always, it was filled with professionals. There might as well have been a big, glowing, neon arrow pointing directly at my crotch.
See? What did I tell you?
Bonehead.
K-
No, of course it hasn't. This only happens to boneheads, of which I am one.
Let me explain.
I was sitting in a meeting last week. Not one of those soccer-scouts-church-neighborhood-band-PTA-unimportant evening meetings, but a real meeting, a professional meeting, a meeting full of hard-nosed engineers, a meeting during the day, a meeting where I had to be on the ball, pay attention, demonstrate acumen, show insight, and articulate vision. This was an adult meeting, a significant meeting, a meeting of utmost moment.
It was a meeting I was getting paid to be at.
We were gathered in a beautiful conference room on the 12th floor of a Washington office building. We sat at a large table, our laptops arrayed around us. I was positioned strategically at the table's head. It was mid-morning. A colleague stood to my right briefing upcoming plans. He was intent, serious. His message was important. My trusty green 1-quart Stanley thermos sat nearby on the table. As the planning session droned on, I picked up my thermos, curious whether I had any coffee left. I was fairly certain I had finished my daily allotment, but I wanted to make sure. I knew I had just drained the last of my home brew from the thermos top that served as my cup. But if there was more coffee in the thermos, I would take it. My thermos seemed empty. I shook it vigorously to confirm. Nope. No coffee. I gave a small, inaudible sigh. A bit more coffee sure would have made the morning go faster.
As I held the thermos upright in my lap, I looked ruefully at the thermos top sitting on the table, picked it up with absolute, unequivocal, 100 percent moral certainty it was empty, inverted it, and went to screw it in place.
Sploosh!
An inch of coffee dumped in my lap. Not only that... it was hot. I jumped up, interrupting the proceedings. Of course this was the day I chose to wear khakis rather than dark suit pants so it was immediately obvious to everyone in the room that something unpleasant involving a liquid had just happened to me. Paper napkins flew in my general direction to assist, but the cotton cloth of my pants had already soaked up everything.
If I had peed my pants I could not have made a stain that looked more like I peed my pants than this stain did. I made my way to the men's room out in the corridor praying with all the fervor I could muster that no one was present in the usually busy hallway. But, no, as always, it was filled with professionals. There might as well have been a big, glowing, neon arrow pointing directly at my crotch.
See? What did I tell you?
Bonehead.
K-
So, when you cleaned up, did you make the wet spot much larger so that it was obvious you hadn't peed your pants? There was a sink at a former workplace whose faucet was ON (Full blast) or OFF (Not a drop). Invariably, I'd get splashed on that spot. I always made the spot larger. :)
I didn't think to make a bigger wet spot. In fact, that might have been the thing to do. Just soak my trousers in the sink. That way everything would be wet and all one color.
K-
Kem, I'm really laughing here. Sorry.