When I was younger, my father would refer to me as Grace or Twinkletoes. These cute nicknames were not a reference to my superior ballet abilities. I’m a bit of a klutz. There was a while there where I was fully unable to talk and walk down the stairs at the same time for fear of toppling over and doing serious bodily harm to myself or those around me. My sister has now inherited the Twinkletoes throne. Poor girl. We’re the type of people who do things like walk into walls, fall over when we’re standing still, and whatever you do — Do not throw something at us while yelling, “Here. Catch.” That’s a Marcia Brady football to the nose incident waiting to happen.
When I ran cross country and track in high school, the meets were always right after school, and as a result my father was almost never able to attend. The one meet he was able to make it to, I was very excited. The starting gun when off and the pack took off. Meanwhile, I went down. Somewhere in all that muddy jostling, I fell. No big surprise. However, there is a rule that if a runner falls within the first 10 feet or something like that, then there is an automatic restart. Now, I felt pretty confident I had fallen within that amount, so I kind of sat in the mud for a few seconds waiting for them to call a restart. Umm, not so much. I finally realized it was not going to happen, and got up and took off running. What was so amazing about that race was that, pushed by a huge surge of adrenaline, that was the race I also managed to get a PR. Everyone in my family has heard and retold this story a million times. I will never outlive it, which I’m very ok with now, even though at the time it was incredibly embarrassing. I was the girl who fell, but I made the best of it.
I mention this because at my second day on my new job, I had a similar situation. When I leave my desk, I am required to take this wireless handset with me for answering calls. While I was doing so, I tripped (on what, I couldn’t tell you) and promptly fell flat on my ass. What is worthy of mention here is that while I was falling, it appears that I pushed the “Page All” button on the handset and everyone heard me fall and grunt to get up in a none too lady-like fashion. I was blissfully unaware of how public my plight had become until my boss came out of her office saying, “Hey genius. You’re on the intercom.” Lovely. None of the employees had really met me yet, so when they did, I received a lot of, “Oh yeah, the girl who fell. “When I related this story to my mom, I thought she might actually have a heart attack, she was laughing so loud while gasping, “Only you Victoria” intermittently.