I’m winding down the second week of my new job. I’m finding more and more that it’s the perfect job for an avoidant personality like myself. I arrive in the morning, clock in, and go about my business for the rest of the day, not really needing to talk to anyone but the cats. When my shift is up, I generally just clock out and slip away. Easy peasy.
This isn’t to say I don’t interact with other human beings at all throughout my day. Often there are volunteers around to help, and I am occasionally called upon to help out with a special task.
Just the other day, I was asked to help clean the cat isolation rooms due to a shortness in staff that day. I hadn’t done this before, so I had someone showing me the protocol. The woman showed me to the room, instructed me to put on a paper surgical gown that was hanging inside the door, and some surgical booties
that were in a box on the floor. She went to retrieve a second paper gown before she came back to help take care of the sick cats.
She spoke very quickly, and for some reason when she said “gown and booties,” my mind automatically registered “cap and gown.” (You can see where this is going already.) So yes, when she turned her back I grabbed a single bootie from the box, slipped in the door, tied on the paper gown, and contemplated the odd shape of this cap I had allegedly been instructed to wear. The opening seemed far smaller and less elastic than any other surgical cap I had worn before, but I shrugged and wrestled it onto my head.
I stood there for a few moments wondering if I needed to tuck my pigtails up inside, and how I was going to do that given the tight circumference of the opening.
Fortunately (and I can’t thank my lucky stars enough), this is when enlightenment struck. I realized I was essentially wearing a blue paper shoe atop my noggin. In a breathless instant I was able to pull the bootie off my head, retrieve a second, and pull them on over my shoes before my coworker returned. If the look on my face gave anything away she certainly didn’t acknowledge it.
From now on, I vow only to wear outrageous headgear with the utmost intention and careful forethought. No need to go embarrassing myself without meaning to.
That is what educators call an “A-ha moment”. This reminds me of the time we received a box of clothes from someone and there was a jock strap in it. I thought it was a hat. I did NOT manage to get it off before Mom saw it and nearly died laughing.