The Colour of Humility

"I want a medal for today."
I'm standing at the photocopier trying to fix a paper jam
when I say this to someone waiting
to see one of my coworkers.
It's been one of those days.
Brutal. Well, not really.
It just feels that way.

The person looks at me and says,
"Just go home and have a drink."
When I tell her I don't drink she says,
"Then go home and have some chocolate."
I don't eat chocolate either but I don't tell her that.
Which is a funny commentary if you think about it.
It's easier to tell people you don't drink than
that you don't eat chocolate.
I could just imagine her face contorting as she says,
"You don't eat chocolate?!"

Instead I finish fixing the photocopier in silence,
wipe the black spots of ink off my finger and go back to my desk.
Where I turn up my Christian music a little louder.
If you only knew my motives for that some days
you would puke.

Funnily enough. Or not as it turns out, one of my bigger frustrations today concerned someone who I was absolutely convinced thought was pulling a get-me-to- the-front-of-the-line sob story. So convinced was I that I let someone higher up the food chain know that I was on to that person in a who does she think she is kind of way.

Which led me to a getting a proverbial smack up the side of the head by reality. Yep, that happened when higher up the food chain person shut my office door and told me little miss front of the line's rest of the story. The real one. Not the ego driven, motive certain one I had made up all in my own little mind. The story I would have bet money on. And lost. She told me the one I could have only known if I had been God.

Humility. I can always use more of it.

When my oldest son was a toddler I used to wake up to him sitting under the kitchen table with the ketchup bottle in one hand and an arc of little red splotches holding court around him. Today it felt like God made the beginning of yet another arc right where I could see it. The red matches the colour of my face rather well.

Pretty soon I'm going to be surrounded by a sea of ketchup as all those arcs of humility/slaps up the side of the head that have been given to me over the years become one big blob.


Photo Credit

Crunching My Way To Humility

“And how do you like your crow?” he asked.

”Well done, “ I replied.

I heard a barely restrained self satisfied laugh on his end of the phone while I felt my face turn brick red on mine. Several months ago I’d sent him a good natured, yet firm inquiry, about a detail that he'd promised me he'd see come to fruition. One that once taken care of, would help me in the day to day operations in our office. He apologized graciously and said he’d fix it right away. A few weeks ago I was still waiting for the matter to be resolved so I called to see where things stood. Puzzled, he told me he had taken care of it immediately after our last conversation. He sounded a bit flustered and said he’d look into it. I am at the bottom of the pecking order when it comes to company hierarchy. He is at the top of one of the rungs. I've spent a goodly amount of energy in my life with an "I sure showed them, didn't I?" attitude. I thought that was behind me.

Apparently not.

This morning I looked inside our last inter office courier envelope before I slipped my documents inside. Once a week these envelopes travel several hundred miles between us and our head office where Mr. Apologizing Graciously works. Staring me right in the face was that envelope I’d called him about two weeks ago, my name in bold black letters on the front.

Um, yah.

I estimate it took me 2 months to get to the bottom of the pile of envelopes.

I thought about taking the easy way out by emailing him, letting him know it had been my mistake that had prompted my last phone call to him. I instantly knew the right thing to do was to pick up the phone and fess up. I also knew there was a good chance that today’s courier might hold a replacement envelope and I really hoped I didn’t have to eat a double helping of humble pie. I phoned him and said,

“I’m going to have to eat crow so go gentle on me, okay?”

I explained what I’d found this morning. There was a missed beat or two before he chuckled. Damn, I deserved that laugh. I told him it was a good thing he had no idea how deeply I blush because my face was brick red as we spoke. He graciously told me the conversation would self destruct as soon as we both hung up the phone, never to be spoken of again. I wouldn't blame him if he high fived someone the moment he put down the phone.

Eating crow is crunchy and tastes awful.

But it does wonders for keeping the ego in check.