I have a girl-job. By that I mean I work at a clothing store, part time.
By nature, girl jobs require you to look like a girl when you arrive and remain thus throughout. That means makeup, hair, stylish clothes, etcetera.
I also have a bicycle. By that I mean I drive it pretty much everywhere.
By nature, bicycles do not have roofs, and that can be a problem. Most of the time I am prepared—I pack the nice clothes and wear ratty ones so I can change and be presentable for work.
Yesterday was the exception.
It was bright and sunny as I left for work. I left a bit early and stopped off at the library to get a little WiFi. Fifteen minutes later I came out and it was drizzling. No problem, I thought. I have a coat. So on went my coat, and I went down the road. A little water never hurt anyone.
I turned the corner onto the main drag and was instantly buffeted by gale-force winds. Dang.
Be strong, Geralyn. Be strong.
But then the rain began to pelt down, blasting off my makeup, running into my helmet, soaking my nice, purple jeans.
Dang. “What a fiasco!” I laughed, because there was no use crying. There was no way I could work like this, and there were no dry clothes in my backpack. But fortunately, I work at a clothing store. I quickly devised a plan. I would buy a new pair of pants. What girl doesn’t want a new pair of pants?
I parked my soggy bike at the rack and dripped my way into the mall. It was quiet and there weren’t many people to witness my bad fortune.
“Peyton!” I said as I sloshed through the door. “I have a problem.”
Thus and thus, a dry pair of pants were taken from the sale rack and, ten dollars later, I was dressed for work. Actually, the pants are very comfortable and stylish. So my little natural disaster turned out just dandy.
As I quoted in “The Weather Wimp,” Ken Blanchard said “I go out into the world every day with the attitude that my ‘OKness’ is not for grabs”. Don’t let a little rain steal your ‘okness’. Make the best of it—you may get new clothes out of the deal.
Tell me your best ‘bad weather’ stories–a little singing in the rain, maybe?
Geralyn Wichers 