Hung Up On You
Did I tell you about the time I got stuck to my desk chair?
What’s worse is that a client had just requested some of my time by e-mail, and I responded by typing the following: “Call me any time tomorrow afternoon. I will be chained to my desk trying to get something done.”
I did not mean for this desk chaining to happen, but alas, I’m me, and therefore, it did.
Procrastinating Concentrating feverishly on work, my parched throat craved a glass of water. When I tried to stand up, I couldn’t. My hook lashed itself to the back of my mesh chair and was stuck there like a shrieking demon dragging a soul into the flaming pit of hell.
Trying to stand up meant dragging the chair with me in an awkward dance of gawkiness. No matter how I contorted myself, I couldn’t reach the hook. First, I tried one hand and then the other, wrenching my neck in the process. If I moved forward, the mesh came with me, the hook twisting at varied angles such that I could never tell exactly WHICH way it should point to disengage. I tried using both hands at once, and couldn’t grab anything at all.
For almost ten minutes, I reached, stretched, strained, struggled, cursed, swore, screamed, pulled, wiggled, mashed, pretzeled, and pushed the sodding hook. I think my entire life flashed before my eyes during those few minutes of my intense groping clumsiness.
Sweaty and still attached, I had one final dreaded thought – I was going to have to call MTM at work to come and dislodge the stupid thing. And, he was going to laugh at me for days and days and days.
All because I typed the phrase “chained to my desk.”