At my first job out of high school, I worked with a couple of women who were nice people but tended to constantly give me unsolicited advice and comment on anything I did which didn't seem "normal" to them. I was only eighteen which, in their eyes, meant I needed constant guidance in the ways of the world.
I was once chided for cooking ribeyes on the stovetop, making a gravy with the drippings and serving it with rice, Cajun style. You would have thought I had tried to feed bacon wrapped ham to a rabbi.
One day, it was necessary, for some forgotten reason, for the office manager to move my car. I always pull my seat as close to the steering wheel as it will go. The office manager, on the other hand, always pushed her seat as far back as it would go. The nurse (I worked for an ophthalmologist), opted for somewhere in the middle as was explained in the lecture I received for having my seat so close to the steering wheel.
I told them that, if I push the seat back any further, I can't reach the pedals.
"Ridiculous!" they said. "It's dangerous to drive so close to the steering wheel."
Mustering up my courage, I said, "Stand up."
"What?"
"Stand up, bitch."
(I didn't really say the bitch part.)
We were all about the same height which didn't make sense to me car-seat-driving wise. Sure enough, when we stood side-by-side, the office manager's legs were about two inches longer than mine and mine were about one inch shorter than the nurse.
The reason for this post is that I want all of you to stand by your friends and measure your legs and have a lively discussion on car-seat-driving positions. Evidently, it's an important issue to some bitches.
I mean, to some people.
I was once chided for cooking ribeyes on the stovetop, making a gravy with the drippings and serving it with rice, Cajun style. You would have thought I had tried to feed bacon wrapped ham to a rabbi.
One day, it was necessary, for some forgotten reason, for the office manager to move my car. I always pull my seat as close to the steering wheel as it will go. The office manager, on the other hand, always pushed her seat as far back as it would go. The nurse (I worked for an ophthalmologist), opted for somewhere in the middle as was explained in the lecture I received for having my seat so close to the steering wheel.
I told them that, if I push the seat back any further, I can't reach the pedals.
"Ridiculous!" they said. "It's dangerous to drive so close to the steering wheel."
Mustering up my courage, I said, "Stand up."
"What?"
"Stand up, bitch."
(I didn't really say the bitch part.)
We were all about the same height which didn't make sense to me car-seat-driving wise. Sure enough, when we stood side-by-side, the office manager's legs were about two inches longer than mine and mine were about one inch shorter than the nurse.
The reason for this post is that I want all of you to stand by your friends and measure your legs and have a lively discussion on car-seat-driving positions. Evidently, it's an important issue to some bitches.
I mean, to some people.
4 comments:
"Stand up. bitch."
My grandma had that embroidered on a throw pillow that sat on her couch for years.
"Stand up. bitch."
I'll bet they wondered what was coming next!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I always have to adjust the seat, the mirrors, the angle etc....even my daughter who is only 1 and 1/2 inches taller than me has the seat further back....I consider it to be their fault.
D. B. - Your grandma would have loved my grandma.
Peter - I didn't really say it, but I wanted to. (Like your gravatar.) :)
Lorna - I totally agree!
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