I know nothing. Seriously. I don't know a daggum thing. And when I'm exposed to new circumstances or situations, I mostly embarrass myself. Case and point:
This week I am away from home. I am in Williston, ND, training for work. I have learned some fantastic things about my job and am anxious to get back to the office to put my newfound knowledge to the test - and do my job well when the rubber meets the road. It's go time. However!
I'm staying in a less-than-five-star hotel. I am so freaked out about the filth of hotels, thanks to those daggum 60-minute specials, that it is hard for me to get comfortable. I found a hair in the tub upon my arrival. You all know how I am with hair - in a TUB. I almost slept in the car. (Not really, and it's not like I ever exaggerate....ever....)
So here I am in a hotel that is chock-full of oil rig workers, machinists, equipment operators....and a wee little naive trust assistant.
This morning I went downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast. I ordered french toast and scrambled eggs, and my eggs came out over easy. Normally I would have said something, but after hearing 30349857034975 f bombs, and hearing the waitress talk to a table about going to the strip club tonight, I just ate it as fast as I could. One restaurant attendee walked by to pay his bill, smiled at me and said, "You need to smile." So I did and said, "Sorry, it's too early for my happy face." I thought it was a nice gesture by the gentleman, however. Who had talked to the waitress about the strip club. Ahem.
Today I had another overwhelming day in training. I am learning so much and it is going to be so beneficial to me in this job, but it is just so much information, that if I don't take a break from it, I start to fry. We all know what happens when I'm fried (refer to horse-passing-gas blog).
Tonight I came back to the hotel, came to my room, and got caught up on my email. I decided to go to dinner earlier tonight than I did last night. Because of the snow and wind outside, I decided to stick it out in the hotel restaurant again. I walked downstairs, took a table, and experienced exemplary service. (There I go exaggerating again!!) I heard someone say, "Hey!" and I looked up - there was Mr. Smiley. I smiled immediately and said, hurriedly, "I smiled a lot today!" He said, "Good. Why are you here by yourself?" "Oh," I replied, "I'm traveling alone. Here for work." He answered, "Where do you work?" "At a bank." I mentally patted myself on the shoulder for not saying which bank, or at what location. "Well you shouldn't be alone!" "Oh, yeah, well, it's only for a little bit." At this point I decided to rub my cheek with my left hand - the hand that proudly displays my wedding ring. I put my hand over my mouth, scratched the right side of my face, looked adoringly at my ring.... He went back in to the bar to finish his meal, but not before telling me I had a beautiful smile, and he was glad to see me again at the end of his day. It was a sweet compliment.
I tried to enjoy my pasta, and finish eating. I heard the f bomb 349875 more times. In the meantime I was texting my friend, Ali, and laughing hysterically at our text conversation. Ali, you're a real card. Thanks for keeping me so entertained tonight.
The waitress finally brought me my bill, and I got up to pay. At the register, another man recognized me from breakfast. "Hey I saw you this morning! You're eating again?" "Well, you know...." (What are you supposed to say? "Excuse me, are you calling me fat?") "What are you doing in a place like this by yourself anyway?" I answered, "I'm here for work. Doing some training." "What line of work?" "Banking." "Oh, what bank?" "I'm actually from Fargo, I'm here, downtown......." Enter text from Ali. Thank goodness. I take a break to text her back. I told her I was making friends. I laughed to myself. "What's your name, Fargo?"
"Deborah. Glad you're from Fargo and you're used to the cold. You try to stay warm by yourself." I smiled. Because that's what you do when you don't know what else to do.
My husband called me a short while later. I told him I was making friends and that some guys from breakfast recognized me. Before I even told him what happened, he said, "You mean some oil rig workers are hitting on you."
I am so stinking naive. Deborah. Really?!