An Emily Story: Chaper 1

(I'd like to preface this by saying that this is what one of my friends calls an Emily Story. All that means is that I did something ridiculous, laughed about it, and felt the need to share....despite the ridiculousness of the situation. People sometimes say "the weirdest stuff happens to you..." Actually I happen to it.)


The story I'm about to tell you is an excerpt from life. Raw, uncut, and awkward.

It's Wednesday, and it's a normal day at work. In between customers I get myself a sweet tea refill and sit behind the register in my chair. There's not much to do in the afternoons so I'm kind of bored...I usually just end up drinking more sweet tea.

Anyone that knows me AT ALL knows that--
1. I drink sweet tea like it's going out of style
2. Sweet tea goes right through me

So, I'm hanging out drinking my sweet tea and the boss man comes in and tells me he's got to run some errands. No big. I'm there by myself but we aren't too busy so I'm good. He leaves, I sit.

Almost immediately I have the overwhelming urge to tinkle.

Lucky me the bathroom is all the way down the hall and I'm not allowed to leave the cafe open with no one attending it. I inform myself that I am nineteen years old and have absolutely no other option than to be uncomfortable for a little while. I mean, really, how long could a "quick errand" take?

5 minutes.
10 minutes.
15 minutes.

I'm pacing saying "Emily. You are a big girl. Hold it hold it hold it hold it hold it."

20 minutes.

At this point I am dying. No, I'm not being dramatic. We're talking hunched over, legs crossed. GOT.TO.GO.NOW.

Talk about a dire situation.

25 minutes.

Pep talk perfected.

30 minutes.

I hear the door open.

PRAISE THE LAMB! I prepare to sprint down the hall.

No such luck--it's a customer. At least that will distract me.

It's a robust woman with a pompadour and WAY too much perfume.

Fancy.

I go to work making her lunch then hand her the food. Obviously this requires closer contact.

Geez...SO much perfume.
All of a sudden my nose starts to tickle.
My mindset changes from "hold it" to "don't sneeze on the lady".

She leaves and my nose is still twitching and tickling.

Then it happened.

Yes, I regret to inform you that I sneezed. Big sneeze. Huge sneeze. I do believe I sounded like an elephant. All concentration was lost and my bladder was subconsciously given permission to party...


I knew at this moment I had some really big decisions to make...

I had to chose a reaction: shame or laughter
I went with laughter. Lots of it, actually.

I also needed an explanation for when the boss man returned and I had a wet spot on my

buttocks, backside, rear end, rear, seat, bottom, rump, cheeks, behind, derrière; informal butt, fanny, keister, tush, tail, buns, heinie, caboose; fundament, posterior, haunches, gluteus maximus, sit-upon, stern, wazoo; Brit. informal bum, arse.

(i wasn't sure which word was blog appropriate. thanks dictionary.com)

I wish I could tell you that this was the end of the story and I simply went home soggy...but unfortunately it is not.

I decided after all of this that I could wait no longer. I resolved to leave the restaurant open and unattended and venture down the hall to attend to myself. This plan seemed good enough, but my uncanny loyalty to the rules caused me to further complicate the situation and have self-induced awkwardness reign down on my head.

It's safe to say that I was running on adrenaline, nerves, shame...or something at that point...

I whipped out my cell phone and texted my boss. The text said something to the extent of "I have GOT to go. If you get back and I'm not here I HAD to run down the hall."

Thought process:
Good enough.
Send.
Oh my gosh.
I just sent that to my boss.
I can't believe I just did that.
I'm mortified.

Oh well.

I made an assessment and realized that thankfully I didn't look as soggy as I felt. Shortly after that the boss returned. He laughed at my dumb text message and wanted to know if everything was good...

"Of course!"

Psh, like I'd fess up on that one.