You...are OUT!

I know how almost every reality TV star gets kicked off the show.  But when it happens to you, it really hurts.  I know the platitudes about God’s work with doors and windows.  I knew there were always windows open to me…but I’m starting to feel like I live in breezy glass house with all of these open windows in my life.

I didn’t embezzle a bunch of money.  Never got around to harassing the adorable new college grads.  Forgot to get drunk over lunch.  Chose to stick with over the counter medications.  My greatest offense was being a victim of horrible traffic.

The termination was pretty much for ridiculous reasons.  My first day (the first day! Gulp) I underestimated my travel time by about 7 minutes.  Once in the parking garage, I was disoriented and couldn’t figure out where to park, so I pulled into the first “non reserved” spot I found and ran into the lobby.  Where I waited to be “escorted” to the training room.  LATE #1…about 9 minutes.

Day 3 of training I came down with I’ve affectionately named, The Plague. Burning throat, endless coughing, no voice.  Our soon-to-be managers came into the training room and specified how tardiness would in no way be tolerated.  None.  I knew I was doomed, but bolstered my confidence by declaring…this will be my journey. Timely-ness.  How novel.

The Plague stuck to me like glue.  I really was a noisy disgusting mess for many days.  Finally, I coughed so hard one day I completely peed my pants.  Light gray pants. At that point even I had to admit I should probably seek some medical advice for the endless coughing.

At Target clinic, my favorite “urgent care” choice because you can pick out new mascara while your prescription is filled, my blood pressure was deemed to be in the “I believe you should go to the ER” range.  But first I did grab some apples, a bag of Butterfinger cups (have you even tried those?!  Ohmyheavenlygoodness) and some bagels.  I kinda needed a gallon of milk, but figured I shouldn’t be carrying anything that heavy should a stroke or heart attack be near.  You’re following my reasoning here I hope…

An hour later I was wheel-chaired into triage.  I was having shortness of breath, seeing spots and that pesky high blood pressure.  One of my besties met me in the ER waiting room and I had to fight back tears.  I’m way too young for a stroke or heart attack.  I realized how many people count on me…especially those 4 ever-growing bundles of joy I’ve delivered into this world.  I panicked.  Really one of the best choices when trying to lower crazy high BP.  I knew I had made the right choice to be seen.  I’ve heard more than I care to admit stories of my peers who’ve saved their own lives just in the nick of time.

They ran an EKG pretty quick.  I was told, “someone will read this soon.  They will come and get you if they see anything alarming.   We are running about 2 – 2 1/2 hours before we can get you back.”

What?

I was comforted that at least my heart rate would get a quick once over and I’d be considered before the other present “emergencies” that evening.  Bestie and I hunkered in with water and some snacks.  We talked about our days.  How the new jobs were going.  And I let him tell me about the current state of presidential nominees.  For most people, politics get them riled up. My blood pressure went down.  My breathing got normal.  The spots wandered off.

I wanted to go home.  We’d waited over two hours.  I felt better.  I wanted to go home.  Bestie said I had to stay and be seen.  I wanted to go home.  “Look at me!  I’m fine now.”  Bestie can be as stubborn as me.  I considered trying to sneak out.  Then I remembered that I’m an adult and I went there on my own free will.  I went back to the check in desk and let them know I was leaving.  I signed the AMA form and walked out a free woman.

By now it’s past my night owl bedtime, and I made the decision that I’d call in sick (or humiliated because remember, I had wet my pants that day…)  I followed the protocol for reporting an unplanned absence and proceeded to sleep 17 of the next 24 hours.

Back at work the following day, in dry pants and a “diaper”, I was told I was being put on written warning for my first day tardiness and unplanned absence.  Wow.  O-K.

Thankfully the next few weeks were pretty uneventful.  My cough slowly got better.  I embraced my need to prepare for occasional bladder leakage.

Then last Monday happened.  Remember how this story started out about how I got voted off the island?  I’m FINALLY getting back there.

Apparently when a semi falls over on 694, and it blocks 3 lanes of traffic, my commute time goes from 45ish minutes to 1 hour and 17ish minutes.  Not good.  I was called over and reminded that I was currently on written warning for my un-dependable-ity.  They would let this one “go” but next time I was getting asked to pack up my things and go.

In all reality, I knew my fate was sealed.  I had committed to giving myself an hour to make the 19 mile commute.  This allowed me to get 3 out of 4 of my kids off to school.  A reliable nanny (*waves*) got the 4th on the bus just before she started her own work day.  It was a good set up, but I also knew what happened as soon as 6 snowflakes fell from the sky.  Traffic would turn to a standstill and my one hour allowance would barely get me half way there.  I had hoped to make it to Christmas.

Nope.  I made it only 2 more days.  Morning news warned me that Highway 100 was closed due to police activity.  I kissed #3 goodbye and gave myself 10 extra minutes.  I had learned a back way in and crossed my fingers that I’d make it.

I was so close.  I was 4 minutes late to my desk.  6 minutes late to logging in and getting on the phone.  Doomed.

To make this already too long story shorter, I was declared the weakest link and escorted from the building.

So, back to closed doors and sunny windows.  Stay tuned.