Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Little Bit of Class Tuesday: Accidentally Promiscuous Edition

So I'll get right to it. Today after work I went to Lens Crafters because my eyes have had it. Why? Oh, I dunno, something about working on Excel sheets all day on a big screen at 150% zoom whilst squinting lost its appeal. Let me paint the picture: long day, stuck in traffic (hence fretting, and subsequently sweating), wasting money on a cab the rest of the way to the LC only to wait an hour before being seen...I think you can pick up the frustration brewing. Ever the class act, though, I perused the Tiffany and Chanel glasses and cursed silently to myself (the scene I create usually only occurs in my head).

By the time mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the eye chart I am tired, cranky, hungry, and annoyed that I can't afford the Tiffany glasses. Enter eyeball technician. We'll call him Horace. Why? Meh, it's a funny name. Anyway. I sat down, I batted my eyes and said to ol' Horace, "Can I level with you?"

"Yes, of course," Horace replied.

"Well, I don't have health insurance, so I need to talk about my options for today's visit. I'm on an hourly rate..."

"Oh OK yeah no problem...(clears throat, shifts in chair) you can talk about payment options with the doctor," said Horace. I nervously giggled and calmed down a bit. I hate talking about my money woes, after all.

Then we proceeded with the eye exam.

Fast forward ten minutes to where I am in the waiting hallway, and decided that my braid is too tight and took it out. As I did so, while running my fingers through my locks, tossing them about to get the full wavy effect, I caught a glimpse of Horace and we made awkward eye contact.

Then the thought hit me: he thinks I'm a prostitute.

Hourly rate? Hair tosses? Giggles? Seriously. I have a respectable contractor position and am therefore receiving honest and legal payment at an hourly wage. I toss my hair because, well, it's fabulous, and because I was bored. Plus I thought no one was around, AND I usually look like an idiot when I toss my hair, either because I trip mid toss or because my locks stick to my lip gloss. I digress. I giggle when I'm nervous, and I was freaking out about my credit card bill. And now poor Horace thought I propositioned him. All I know is that next time I'll be prepared. When I go in to pick up my contacts I will wear a turtleneck, frumpy pants, and I won't make eye contact with anyone, especially Horace...which may be difficult since not only will I be at an eye care location, I also don't own a turtleneck or frumpy pants. Dilemma.

1 comment:

Lucy The Valiant said...

Too funny!
A few more hair tosses, though, and you might have gotten a discount on those Tiffany glasses!