This morning, I picked my car up from the dealership. I have gotten to know the waiting area there quite well - once spent 3 1/2 hours pacing around waiting for them to fix the alignment. It was a quick visit this time, but I figured I would take advantage of the free mediocre coffee. Since I now know my way around, I proceeded directly to the fancy single cup machine, picked out a styrofoam cup, and placed it on the serving ledge. I went for the "regular coffee" button only to be rebuffed by a handwritten Post-It sign that read "Out of Order." And instead of just thinking "Bummer, looks like there's no coffee," my first internal reaction was to wonder who had witnessed me go through the whole ordeal of selecting a coffee cup and putting it on the little ledge before realizing it was out of order. I imagined the guy with his Wall Street Journal saying under his breath, "It's out of order, you idiot." When I saw that there was a make-shift coffee carafe to fulfill the free coffee duties until the fancy machine recovered, I had a little under my breath conversation, "Oh, okay, that's where the coffee is today," as if I had to provide evidence to the third party observers that I was not an idiot but could figure out all on my own that there was a substitute coffee source.
It’s ridiculous the number of times I worry about looking like an idiot. I also have these moments when I realize I am going the wrong way and have to turn around. I could be looking for a particular store in the mall, for example, and suddenly realize it’s not in the Macy’s corridor (the direction in which I am headed) but instead near Nordstrom’s. Rather than just do a simple about face, I have to pretend I am going into some other store (and do a little lap in there, perhaps) and then head out in the right direction. It’s the “I meant to do that” phenomenon. I don’t know why I worry so much. It’s not like anyone has ever called me on it.
Except for one time – unjustified. For the second week in a row at 7-Eleven after my dance class, the Crystal Light slurpee flavor flashed the red, “not ready” light. But dammit, that can’t be an exact science. So I pulled out a cup and thought I would check the consistency. Sure enough, it was pure liquid. And some other customer was kind enough to advise, “It’s not ready – the red light is on.” Gee thanks, Mister! In the end, I did wait it out. And even with the red light still on, I managed to walk out with a half frozen slurpee. Shows you what he knows. Idiot.
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