Humiliated

How did your dream get shattered? Here is how mine died.

The convention center was a large sprawling complex taking up one full city block in Houston. It was located near Discovery Zone Park. The parking situation was a nightmare that caused the fat lady with aspirations larger than her waist to disparage the city’s uneven sidewalks while walking to get to the center. Her cheap blue wagon she had bought from Walmart trundling along behind her filled to over capacity with things she called art.
She had taken care to pack the canvases neatly in a bag she had sewn herself from top tier designer fabrics in shades of blue floral designs. The bag’s quilting was straighter than an arrow and neatly done. It looked professional in the way of Vera Bradley. Her spirits were high with hope and joy at the excitement of presenting them to the who’s who of the fabric world. She had managed appointments with all the major companies.
Getting the appointments had been no easy feat. She’d first had to provide credentials proving she belonged and pay for the privilege to be credentialed to attend this gathering of the elites. Then a day’s drive and much anguish happened over her clothing. She’d anguished over her wardrobe and finally decided on a polka dot black blouse with sparkly buttons paired with a black flowing saree style skirt. It was her favorite outfit. One she associated with good memories of a trip taken with her adult daughter.
She finally reached the convention center and pulled the wagonful of canvas and acrylic paint to the appointed booth. Her appointment was with the design director of the third largest quilting cotton manufacturer in the world. Nervous flutters hit her stomach and caused her fingers to tingle. Her plump cheeks turned red and she bit her lips before swallowing hard and forging forward to the table.
She took the seat that the thin stylishly dressed lady with unkempt black and silver hair indicated she should sit down in. The design director did not return an extended handshake to the one proffering to her. Katherine hastily snatched her hand back and sat down on the high-backed chair.
“Hello, I’m Katherine Davis of Kat’s Corner Quilting. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. I’ve got some designs I wanted-“, Katherine stuttered to a halt as she was cut off by the lady across from her whose lanyard badge indicated her name as Maria De La Silva, Executive Director of Design.
“Let me see”, Ms. De La Silva said briskly. A slight tap of her nails on the table belied her impatience
Katherine fumbled her bag in the wagon open and caused a cascade of canvases to hit the floor. A sharp sigh from the Executive Design director only added to nervousness Katherine had coursing through her veins. She slipped a portfolio card of her works as thumbnail pictures out and slid it across the table to Ms. De La Silva. Ms. De La Silva made no move to pick it up.
Ms. De La Silva glanced down with an expression that one might wear if presented with a dead rodent from their pet cat.
Katherine was trying hard to grasp the fast fleeing joy she had entered the building within her heart. Her cheeks were going redder by the second and a cold chill was starting to descend down her spine as she registered the micro expressions on the face of the woman she sat before.
Katherine had no time to even screw up her courage to speak before her table companion started to speak.
“I see you have a store, is it a web or physical location? No matter either way, you should not be wasting your time on this,” a wave of her long thin hand in a circular manner over the portfolio in front of her. The wave was contemptuous in the way that was meant to humiliate and belittle. “You should not be wasting time on this when you are provided many beautiful fabrics to buy from us creative types who make them for little stores such as yours.”
Katherine felt as if she had been slapped. Her cheeks were brighter than any rendition of Rudolph’s nose ever thought of being. Bright and blotchy with unshed tears and humiliation. All the excitement and joy had run from her and was replaced with dread and sorrow. No joy at all was left in her heart.
Katherine felt rooted to the chair. Her plump behind was uncomfortable on the hard plastic. She felt the digging into her thighs from the chair edge as she pulled her legs as far back and under the chair as was humanly possible. She felt herself shrinking as best she could into herself in a dignified ball. She felt the prickle of tears sting her eyes and prayed she could gather belongs and flee before the storm of water rolled down her cheeks.
Katherine struggling to overcome her shame, politely thanked and haphazardly stuffed everything into her wagon and left as fast as she could. The hall was crowded and many people were openly staring at her and the scene they had witnessed. Katherine was becoming acutely self conscious of her size and her red cheeks. The stares felt like lasers as she scrambled with a cumbersome wagon to get away. No specific place other than the restroom sign she had zeroed in on as a place of refuge. A stall with a locking door to compose herself.
She felt the tears roll before she could make it to the safety of the public restroom. Shame and embarrassment at crying in public overcame her and she dropped her head to stare at the ugly carpet and tried to hurry faster.
She got her shoe caught in the spoke of the wagon wheel and face planted hard onto the grey industrial carpet over concrete. People stared and no one moved to see if she was ok.
Katherine got to her feet and felt the first trickle of blood on her skin. The sting and wetness indicated she had been hurt in the tumble. Her pride was in tatters as she finally reached the bathroom. She left her wagon outside the stall and took her purse into the stall with her.
Great gaping sobs rose in her chest, and she bit her fist to stifle the sounds. Her red cheeks were burning with each hot tear that tracked down a path to drip off her chin. She watched them splash on the brown floor tiles. She lifted her skirt and sat heavily on the toilet to see how bad her knee was hurt. It was scraped raw, and the blood was flowing freely from the carpet burn. She ripped off pieces of tissue and pushed it hard onto the scrape. She sat and cried as all her ambitions and dreams shattered.