Is it me or am I just getting old?

Hey there, awesome readers!

Okay, so maybe I just answered my own question. It IS me. And I AM getting oldER. I think.

Why is this on my mind? Because this happened last week…

I was on my way to the centre (or center if you’re in a part of the world that insists on spelling centre center), and I realized that I was out of gas.

PS. If you’re wondering what the centre/center is, it’s a business centre/center and it’s where I spend a lot of my time. Mostly because I work there but also because it’s where I have A LOT of fun. The clients. The situations. The personalities and day-to-day happenings. Honestly. It should be a sitcom.

EXAMPLE:

Part of my job is to send out an email to our virtual office clients, letting them know that we’ve received mail for them. A virtual office client is someone who may or may not have a business and doesn’t want anyone to know where they live. The centre/center is the solution. They have their mail sent to our professional address. (It sounds sketch but it’s really not.)

On one particular Thursday, my email went something like this:

Happy Friday Eve!

Just letting you know that we’ve received mail for you. No rush. We’re happy to hold onto it until you’re ready to pick it up.

One of our clients responded with this:

Thanks, but is this for me?

My name is not Eve. And by the way, it’s not Friday.

TRUE STORY.

In fact, one of my colleagues printed the email up and pinned it to our mailroom bulletin board. Whenever the shenanigans of daily life gets to us and we need a break (also known as a shot of bourbon), we go into the mailroom and re-read it.

And presto! We feel better about the shenanigans of daily life. It’s like day drinking at work but not.

Okay, so back to my original story. I was on my way to the centre/center when I suddenly realized that I was out of gas. Like, panic-no-more-range-reserve kind of out of gas.

New destination: the closest gas station!

Thanks to rush hour, I wasn’t sure if I would make it before hearing the clunkety-clunk-cough-spew-cough noise that a car makes when it runs out of gas.

(Not that this has ever happened to me. I HEARD that this is what happens.)

Confession: In my haste, I may have pulled a few U-turns. And multi-tasker that I am, I may also have pissed off a few people.

FINALLY, I made it to the gas station. I say finally in all caps because although it took less than eight minutes, it felt like the entire morning had gone by. Panicking can do that to a person.

So, I parked in front of a gas pump, jumped out of my car, and stood holding the nozzle as my car suckled on that baby for an hour. Okay, maybe not an ENTIRE hour. $60 later, my car was content and ready to ride again.

Meanwhile, this woman in the pump next to me was putting gas in her car, and the (crappy) music playing on her stereo system was so loud, it was like she was the entertainment speaker for a rave party in a football field. Inconsiderate much?