Friday, September 22, 2006

Underwire Non Grata

It's everyday of my life, with one exception. It's officially Fall and that means that the Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back at Starbucks. All last week I had only one simple goal, to be running on time to work so that I could stop into the green straw oasis and pick up one of these caffeinated hot pumpkin pies in a Java Jacket. But this is my life we're talking about, not some fairy tale. So I get to the office 5 to 20 minutes late, depending on your point of view, and pour myself a cup of the office joe which it's my job to brew in the first place. I raise the mug with the company logo to my lips, but it is not meant to be. The phone is ringing. The copier is jammed. The printer is out of toner and due the the UN-related blockade of Midtown none of my office suppy deliveries can get through. Someone can't find her Blackberry and she thinks it was stolen but she doesn't want to report it because she's afraid suspicion will fall on the cleaning woman. Someones spell-check is not working in his email application and he's upset because as a result he's sent out some rather embarrassing emails to the Board.

So I do a few laps around the office in my wireless headset, wave my magic wand and perform the bizarre ballet that has become my professional life. By the time I get back to my desk, it is a stone cold cup of coffee I am facing and I swear the non-dairy creamer has floated to the top and is swirling into the shape of a vise. And then, just then, I feel a stab in my side. I shift positions, raise my shoulders up and down. Still, there is an uncomfortable jabbing.

Is there any more cruel betrayal than removing yourself to the stall in the ladies' room, stretching out the neck band of your shirt, peering into the abyss and finding that the underwire has worked its way out of the lining in your favorite bra (the black one with the cherries) and is now, poke-poke-poking you like a little brother on a long car trip? I try to pop the underwire back in, a move that I will be discreetly attempting every five minutes for the rest of the day, wherever she takes me, which that night includes Koreatown and Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn. Then I return to the office, dump out the coffee and try to start all over again.

Cherry Bra, you are dead to me.

5 comments:

MCMCMCLY said...

That cherry number was my favorite. Too bad.

Inness said...

Oh NO. Not those! My thighs will never survive the delicious pumpkiny onslaught.

acaligurl said...

omg, great minds think alike! check out my 9/17 *bucks post!!!

Bethany said...

You wear a wireless headset?! That's hot. Is that so you can answer the phone when you're away from your desk? I sympathize completely w/ the crazy morning rush of peoples' technology issues and general break-down of office functionality.

Cupcake said...

Yes, I wear a wireless headset. Yes, it is so that I can answer the phone even when I am not at my desk. No, it is not hot. I look like a dweeb and it gets caught in my hair.

If we're going to fetishize something, let it be something worthy. Like lederhosen.