Day #6–Tell about an embarrassing moment.

By Me (Alison)

Ah, I’ve had so many of these, it’s hard to know which one to share… The time I didn’t clear my windshield properly and almost ran into a gas-pump while a cop was watching? The time I didn’t know what my zip code was? The time I got so lost on the way to a girl’s cabin that I turned around and went home instead? Or how about the time I got runners in both of my nylons at a wedding?

Thankfully, most of the embarrassing moments in my life were years ago. And that, at least, is a comforting thought. I think I have gotten slightly better at not making embarrassing blunders, or at least at not being as embarrassed.

My nursing home career contained several embarrassing moments. Most of them stemmed from my clumsiness. A few of them were not my fault, but embarrassing because I had a reputation for mishaps. I broke a clock and a cabinet, one of my residents broke a toilet, and another of my residents flushed his teeth down the toilet. One of my coworkers remarked, “The reason I love working with you is because you keep things interesting, and I never know what’s going to happen next!”

One night we were working short-staffed, like usual on the weekends, and we were rushing around passing out supper trays to the residents. Suddenly the Unit Director showed up, which seemed very odd. He usually was not present on weekends. Even odder was that he sat down in the dining room and started talking to and feeding residents. I was a little scared of him at that point. I wasn’t quite sure how to take him–he had a way of communicating that made me never sure when he was joking, when he was serious, and if he liked me or hated me or was indifferent to me. Also, I had once called him ma’am by mistake, instead of sir.

So, he is sitting there chatting with a resident, and I am wondering if he came to help us because we were short-staffed, or if he came to spy on us to see how clumsy we were… (Actually, I didn’t really wonder that, but it sounds good.) I wasn’t brave enough to ask him what he was doing there, though. I continued to pass out trays to residents.

One of them asked for a cup of water, so I got a plastic cup and poured some water for her. I was walking to the table, while the Unit Director sat there watching me. Under his eyes, I suddenly tipped forward, smashing the plastic cup on the table and dumping water all over the table and spraying the lady sitting there waiting for it. I flushed.

“So graceful, Alison,” the Unit Director remarked with a smile.

He never attempted to fire me for clumsiness, so I am convinced he was not there spying to see if he could catch me in any clumsy crimes. I afterwards concluded that he showed up just to help us feed residents since we were short-staffed. This makes me less nervous and therefore less clumsy years later, even though I am no longer working under that Unit Director.

It’s still a little embarrassing, though, that when I was nineteen one of my coworkers dubbed me Alison the Destructive…