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How Many Hits Does it Take? Okay, I've absolved my horrid Catholic guilt. I just hope my boss doesn't think I'm a complete space cadet these days. Whenever things start going well, some part of me has to fuck them up. I almost think its subconscious. Yesterday, after a nice meeting with my boss about the ride along, he suggests the two of us go prospecting Tuesday morning. Sounds good to me, and I suggest trying the Hummer dealership up the street. He thinks on this for a couple of hours before returning with a business card and asking me to leave work early to see if I can the appropriate contact info on my own. Well, I head over there, things go fine with the receptionist, and I'm fairly happy. On the way out, I see this handsome man. I probably stared at him, but he looked like he recognized me. We exchanged hellos, and he kept staring as I walked out. Puzzled, but happy I didn't screw up *ha ha*, I head back to the car. And of course this is where things go wrong. I was either woolgathering too much, or too worried about NOT hitting the Hummers on either side of me, but I missed all of that and bonked my butt into a light set in cement. (I was on the islet before I noticed the change in elevation.) Panicking, I get out and start praying. I look at the ass of the Jag, and, besides the bumper hanging just a little looser, everything is fine. I look at the cement grounding, and it seems fine too. Nobody seems to be out on the lot, THANK JESUS, so I climb back in and carefully leave the lot. Then I spend all night worrying about fucking up that account and my slight move towards becoming a salesman being ruined by me being too dumb to watch three sides of a vehicle. Thus, when I met up with my boss this morning I blurted the whole thing out to him. I highly doubt anyone saw me, and the only damage is tire marks on a bit of their islet lawn, but I was worried they might call him and blow my cover. So, despite feeling shitty, I took the I Ching's advice and followed the moral road. After reassuring him that it wasn't a pole I could bend, it was set in cement for the first 2-3 feet, and that I would've confessed my actions to them if I had done something harmful, he assured me that I should be all right and we'll keep it between us. (Too bad I ran into one of the other upper management guys who was asking me how it went and I had to act shy as I felt SO shitty about it.) So, yeah, things look like they're moving pretty well so long as I don't get in my way. Please send prayers for my boss to have mercy on my retardness. Don't I get brownie points for reporting it? Daphne P.S. Its taken at least two to the rear. If you'd like to start a pot on when my bumper is going to fall off, feel free. I'd like to see some of that action myself. |