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My First Impression

My First Impression

I’m tearing up 2012.

Every night since Monday, Jan. 2, I have cooked a fresh, hot dinner WITH vegetables. I have served said dinner at our kitchen table, complete with cloth placemats and my REAL dinner dishes (not my white plastic plates). No TV watching. Actual conversations. And the dinner dishes have been loaded in the dishwasher promptly and sink and counters wiped down.
I’m good.

I’m so good, in fact, that I convinced the Husband to leave work early last night and join us for our fancy dinner. I mean, one really shouldn’t miss this historical event.
As we sat down to dinner and conversation began, I had a coup I wanted to share.
Earlier in the week, I posted a paper on our kitchen bulletin board. In doing this, I noticed another paper detailing all the steps the Girl needed to take to sign up for classes and set her high school schedule. For some reason, this has to be complete in January for school in August. Anyway, the notice had been posted since October (but let’s just ignore the fact that it was three months old by now—progress is that I had even saved it and posted it to begin with).

I yanked down the paper and scanned through it. To get help with your freshman schedule, students were encouraged to meet with a high school guidance counselor in January. The letter clearly stated that appointments were limited and would go fast.

Gee. I can’t seem to win one. I put the letter by the phone and vowed to call right away to claim any spot that might remain, IF a spot remained.

And there it sat for another two days.

But yesterday, Jan. 4, as I was feeling large and in charge, I grabbed that letter. I threw a fistful of popcorn into my mouth, dialed the phone and got voice mail. My first thought? No one will ever check the guidance department voice mail. But I stayed on the line to leave a message anyway.

While I waited for the beep, I choked on a kernel. I left my message, coughing and hacking out my name and phone number. I hung up and got a glass of water.

Literally a minute later, the guidance counselor called back. I apologized for my message and told her I was so surprised she had even understood my message. She shrugged it off, saying that everyone has a cough this time of year. In hindsight, I really should have left it alone ... but I didn’t. I was a little embarrassed to say that I had choked on popcorn, so instead I told her I had choked while drinking. To me, that sounded classier than popcorn. But, wait. Did I just say I was drinking?

Thankfully, she let it pass ... or maybe she made a note of it. Regardless, we set up an appointment. Boy was I proud to have gotten one. So not like me.

As soon as the Girl got home, I told her I had made an appointment with the guidance counselor for next week. She was impressed. I was walking tall.

Now back to dinner ... I had the floor and dove into telling my story. When I got to the part about how quickly the guidance counselor returned my call, the Husband interrupted.

“Of course they called you back immediately. They probably thought you were dying, and they didn’t want the responsibility!”

“Nah,” I said.

“Sure,” he continued. By this time, the Girl was nearly doubled over in laughter. He asked her, “Did you know about this?” She said I had only told her about making the appointment.

Then the Husband said, “And can you imagine what kind of first impression this gave them of you? They probably couldn’t wait to make an appointment with you, to find out the kind of person who would stay on the phone and leave a message while choking to death.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom,” said the Girl. “So what are they going to think of me, now?”

I hadn’t thought of that. I just thought they had good hearing to make out my name and phone number. I just thought I had caught the guidance office at the perfect time, the time when they check messages and return calls. I thought I ... Well, tore it up.

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