Tuesday, December 8, 2009

"Let me guess..."

My company does a program called Winter Wishes, where you can pick up a letter from a child from a low-income family and get them whatever Christmas (or Hannukah, or Kwanzaa) present they are wishing for. The 9 year old girl I chose loves music and was wishing for a guitar. So I got her a cute guitar with a sparkly strap, some Hello Kitty picks (god I hope she's a girly girl), and a kids' guitar book.

Let me reiterate though. A guitar. Which means that I had to carry a big heavy wrapped box to work with me this morning. You might think, oh come on, you only live three blocks away from your work. Three. What's the big deal?

In my paranoid brain, all I could think was that the security guards at my building were never going to let me in because it would look like I was carrying a well-cloaked gun in a wrapped box. This is the way my mind works. Well, that didn't end up being the problem at all.

Instead, every person on the streets of those three blocks felt the need to make a comment about what I was carrying. I got three of these: "Let me guess - it's a guitar!" Three of these: "For me?! You shouldn't have!" One "Merry Christmas!" (from my doorman, that was kind of nice), one: "Want me to help you carry that, mami?" and one: "Goooooood morning!" as well as a slew of looks from mothers pushing their children away from me and gay guys shielding their dogs from me. I couldn't tell whether that was because these people thought I would drop the cumbersome guitar on the little runts' heads, or because they thought there was a machine gun in the box.

Then I got to my building and the security guard said, "Hello!" and let me pass with no problem.

At least I came to work early. Imagine what would have happened if I was walking over during rush hour.

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