of a tennis player, hiker, writer
|I feel like such an idiot. Yesterday, Sarah came rushing into my office breathless, “Where’s the checks?” she asks.
“Yeah. The ones for the teachers. Not the instructors.”
“Oh crap!” I have a memory of my boss handing me these checks on December 23rd – my last day of work before my vacation. WTF did I do with them? My mind races and I give the office a quick scan. Nothing. Oh great. Missing money – on MY watch! Anxiety grips my heart.
“Give me a minute,” I tell her. “I can’t remember where I put them.”
She leaves with the promise we both will check back through cell phone ten minutes from now.
I frantically search the usual places. Still empty-handed, I attack the unusual places. Thumbing through files, slamming desk drawers. Zero. The anxiety has not just multiplied, but spread. My hands, my lungs, my brain, all feel the effects. How am I going to tell my boss I misplaced payroll checks? At this moment, I hate myself.
The phone keeps ringing too. Like I need these interruptions. Sheesh, can’t people just leave me alone? Don’t they sense I’m going through a crisis? AAAHHH!
Finally, I bite the bullet and call my boss. Maybe he moved them while I was away in West Virginia – living it up with my twin sister – oblivious to any missing salaries.
Surprisingly, thankfully, he is calm. He will print new ones if need be. He doesn’t want to do this, he says, but he will.
I call Felicia, tell her what I’m looking for. “No. I haven’t seen them. But there are some checks on the shelf where you put the instructors checks.”
I look, still holing the phone to my ear. “No. I don’t see them.” She insists they are there. I look again. And sure enough, there they are! OMG! How on earth did I miss them the first two times I looked? Then, it dawns on me, I was looking for envelopes(which is usually how payroll makes it to my office) these were sheets of checks, not even folded.
“Thank God,” I say into the receiver.
I call Sarah to let her know – what an idiot I am!