I had a horrible cold all holiday weekend. But Monday? Monday, I got my sorry ass out of bed, put on a bra, and announced that it was a new day! And I went into work.
Corporate Behemoth is in an 18-story tower with a 5-level parking garage underneath. From the garage entrance to the very bottom level, it’s a mile of driving. Since I am not what you’d call “an early bird” or “punctual in any way,” I typically park on 1 of the 2 lowest levels.
There’s been a problem with speeding in the garage, so, in their infinite wisdom, Facilities put in speedbumps. A whole lotta speedbumps. But they went all out and put in these speedbumps that were not really speedbumps at all, but parking stops.
Like, this is a normal speedbump: o
And this is the flavor of speedbump they put in: ^
So, people were driving around the speedbumps and hitting parked cars, and low-riders where getting damaged. And people came to a complete stop before traversing the speedbumps. It was bad.
But now we have some normal-ish speedbumps that are more o than ^. But the people? They still drive like morons! They do not appreciate the new flavor of speedbump!
And so Monday, when I was wearing a bra for the first time in 3 days and trying to pretend that my body composition wasn’t still 87% mucus? I did not have the time nor the inclination to get behind somebody who was shy about crossing speedbumps. I needed to be behind a speed demon, not The White Explorer.
Can we all just agree that if you drive an Explorer, it’s not necessary for you to come to a complete stop before before inching over a speedbump?
Complete. Stop. Seriously.
Some people just can’t handle power tools or 4-wheel drive. Lady in The White Explorer? I’m talking to you. I drive an 8-year-old Honda with messed up rotors and I drive it like I’m outrunning a tribe of angry natives who have never seen an outsider compared to you in your 876,234-horsepower vehicle.
Plus, if we’re being honest?
I really, really, really needed to blow my nose. And you were so slow that I ended up with a mucus situation. As in, I wiped my nose on an old Wendy’s napkin that had been in my glove box for 3 years. You know, those emergency napkins that are partially degraded because they’re so old? The ones you keep only for true emergencies? The ones I had plenty of time to rummage around and find while you were coming to a complete stop at yet another speedbump? After I’d memorized your license plate and put a voodoo curse on you?
But I’m feeling much better now.