Wednesday morning, I make it into work at my usual time, do my usual things for the first hour, just settlin' in to the routine while easing my way into the day's claim rotation. Nothing particularly special or remarkable. A day like any other day, only moreso. Ah, if only, if only. Continuing with my regular routine, after about an hour I went off to the loo, then went to the break room to grab a bottle of iced tea out of the vending machine. Heading back to the production floor, I noticed HR setting up the portable loudspeaker system the business has for the every-two-month all-staff meeting... there's so many of us that people at one end of the office can't hear the goings-on at the other end. However, and this is what puzzled me, there was no such meeting scheduled for that day! Upon returning to my desk and signing back into my computer, all became clear: Name That Tune. I sighed.
See, here's the thing. Name That Tune is a fun game, and under most circumstances I'm a natural at it... all those years working as a radio DJ, or being the go-to guy at BigBlueBox's music department, or hell, just being a teenager, that's all gotta pay off some way, right? But the pity of it all is that the songs involved are selected by my boss. My boss, who loves Barry Manilow and Modern Country music. The last time we played, it... wasn't pretty. One of the gamers and I wound up kvetching about the selection later and we came up with out own list, which would have at least separated the music snobs from the children if nothing else. But I digress. Not only am I not interested in the game as it stood, it also did a fine job of distracting me from my work.
But something had changed. The first song was... good. I mean, really good. If you knew the tune, you had to get to the HR person and tell her title and artist before anybody else. Then the song would be stopped, and the next one would come up. Rinse, repeat. It became obvious that they had gotten some help with the song list... to the point where I was actually paying attention. And then it happened. A song came on that I knew... and after about 30 seconds, I realized nobody else did!
It's not my favorite Dire Straits song. It wouldn't even be on the short list. This was from when the band became a cartoon version of itself, all peppy and cheery and money for nuthin'. On the other hand, I preferred the Dire Straits that made "Sultans of Swing", but hey, I wasn't going to turn a jumbo Reese's Peanut Butter bar down! I got to my feet and, leaving my cane behind, I began to walk quickly to the HR person.
I made it four steps.
I actually don't know what happened exactly. One moment I was upright, the next I had killed all forms of life within a few tens of miles I was getting a closeup look at the office carpeting (light gray, industrial, not at all soft). I can only assume that one of my shoes, the right one like as not, had been grabbed by an invisible gopher. I stayed down, taking inventory of my body, when I finally realized that I had just completely wiped out in front of the entire office... and just as the shame and embarrassment began to hit, the HR lady asked "do you know the song?"
I'm sure it's just cosmic coincidence that the song was "WALK of Life".
Of course my knees hurt. My right elbow throbbed, as did my left arm in the shoulder area. By the time the workday ended, I wasn't concerned about my knees: they hurt, but it wasn't an internal pain. They were just going to bruise (and now, two days on, they probably won't even do that). My elbow still worked, so I wasn't much concerned about that either. My left shoulder, though... the next morning, I woke up and it still hurt. Heck, it still hurts now, though it's much better. I still can't lift my arm over my head, and trying to push or pull something with it is a cold-rolled b*tch, but it's better than it was.
Many moons ago, before I met Will (actually about a week before we started exchanging email), I was in an airport with my BFF waiting for a flight home. There was a group of guys a few rows away, one of whom was super cute. I had an empty juice bottle to throw away, so, in the hopes of catching their eye, I stood up, drew myself to my full five feet and one-half inch, shook back my hair, and took a long, graceful step...
...only to realize that my foot was still inside my luggage strap. Arms windmilling wildly and "D'OH!" involuntarily issuing from my lips, I crashed to the floor.
To add insult to injury, even after my public pratfall, the group of guys still didn't notice me.
Injury-wise, I was still young enough to be made of rubber, so it was no big deal. I hope your shoulder feels better soon!
Posted by: Mrs. Will at July 22, 2017 06:05 AM (JPRju)
I could lift my arm over my head this morning! Slowly, awkwardly, and with some pain, but I managed it. Yesterday I really couldn't at all.
Posted by: Wonderduck at July 22, 2017 08:50 AM (aTO62)
Wonderduck, we're all glad to hear it! You're no spring duck these days, and that's how you get adhesive capsulitis.
Posted by: Rick C at July 22, 2017 07:34 PM (ITnFO)