News #1: Guess who's swim coach told her last night she has "excellent form"? That would be me.
News #2: Guess who's secretary tripped over a doorway at a restaurant, and had to lay on the floor until the paramedics arrived? That would be mine.
Oh, you guys. Even my secretary, K, had to admit this was a classic moment. So, we've walked to lunch, a nice little Italian place by our office. As we walk into the entrance, however, K catches her shoe on the doorway, and just SPLAT falls. No catching herself, no tuck-n-roll landing, just a massive, four star, two thumbs up BLAM fall.
I should also mention that my secretary is a fairly, um, sizable woman.
OK, so she's down, and crying, and her knee is apparently all wonky. Not good.
Suddenly, we have a SWARM of Italian waiters surrounding us. No one seems to know what to do. So, they go summon the manager, who is barking orders in Italian. I distinctly hear "ambulance" shouted. Apparently the manager (lets call him Luigi) has taken some sort of "Torts in the Workplace" course, because he is large and in charge. A manager with a plan. And it apparently involves EMTs.
Alright, so by this point, K has decided she's actually ok, just a little shaken up. She starts to sit up, and Luigi refuses to let her get up. He's yelling something about nerve damage. The nervous waiters bring her a pillow and a glass of water, and tell her to stay put until the paramedics get there.
OK, y'all, close your eyes and picture: my large secretary, propped up on a pillow, blocking the entryway to a restaurant, wearing capri pants and a summery top, sipping water (no ice, please). A bevy of Italian waiters, all running around frantic. Luigi on the phone with 911, trying to explain what's going on in heavily-accented Italian. Diners, watching in amusement and horror. And, all this time, people are still coming and going from the restaurant, so there is a steady stream of traffic STEPPING OVER my secretary, like roadkill.
Somewhere around this time it occurs to me that I might be going to the emergency room with K, so I call my office and give them details so they won't wonder where we are at, say, 5:30 when we haven't returned from lunch. Between the receptionist and my boss, the story morphs into: "K is bleeding everywhere and is being taken away in an ambulance". So, here comes my boss, in a run, in a suit, to assess the situation.
Of course, by this time, there are ambulances there, with sirens blasting, and stretchers and paramedics and blood pressure cuffs and the whole thing. And to anyone with half a brain, it is OBVIOUS that K is just fine, and frankly just wants to have lunch. And get out of the doorway.
So, cooler minds prevail, the ambulance leaves, K and I sit down to a nice lunch, ASSUMING that the restaurant will comp it. Which, they did not.
The end. I think the lesson here is to always announce loudly, immediately after an accident happens, in front of a manager, "Wow, good thing I'm here with a lawyer!! That door is clearly a hazard!! I'm so happy we got pictures on my camera phone!!"
Then, maybe you'll get a free meal.
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2 comments:
That is shocking they did not comp your meal. Last night at Cotton Patch, the waiter misheard Jeremy's request for a Buffalo Chicken Salad and brought the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich instead. That prompted a visit by the restaurant manager, who apologized and assured us it would be comped. We attempted to graciously decline, saying it was an honest mistake, but he insisted. There were no ambulances involved in this entire situation. Go figure.
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