The Sky is Falling: The Blessings of a Turbulent Upbringing

I'm a planner. You see, I had a tumultuous childhood. I was adopted. My adoptive mom wasn't, shall we say...emotionally stable. I've never known what it's like to not enter a room without taking the emotional temperature of everyone in it. My co-workers have learned to gently tap along the cubes on their way to mine so I don't jump out of my skin. You see, hypervigilance is a common trait for those of us with PTSD from tough childhoods.

My whole life, I've scanned the horizon for incoming threats. I think it explains my gravitation toward dystopian fiction, like Stephen King's THE STAND and Justin Cronin's THE PASSAGE. I'll give you an example of how this manifests in real life. More than a year ago, I interviewed for a marketing manager role that would require overseas travel. I asked what financial contingencies were in place, should I get stuck in the UK. The interviewer looked at me like I had suddenly grown three heads. Not so crazy now, huh? At the time, I was considering the volcanic eruption and how it had grounded travel for a month. My AMEX didn't have that much room on it to accommodate a month of hotel stays and meals.

The silver lining to all of this is that I'm pretty calm in times like what you're experiencing right now. Like a good analytics software, my brain has already done the predictive modeling, running through every possible scenario in my head well beforehand. I used to be a TV writer/producer, and my mentor and the star of our show, Jan C. Gabriel, always prized my preparedness for the weird situations that always arose. It's also why I'm good at PR and crisis management. I'm risk averse. I can foresee the incoming threats before anyone ever has them on their radar.

However, I had this one situation I couldn't have possibly foreseen. I've shared this story with friends before who have cried tears of laughter over it, so I'm sharing it with you today in the hopes it helps breaks some of the tension. (Another side effect of the aforementioned childhood is often that of becoming a comedic tension breaker.) This might be funnier to my friends and family because they know me and my mom so well, but here goes:

Prior to my corporate job, I worked remotely for 20+ years, rarely on site with clients, so I do know what you're going through right now. One day, I was working at home, even though I maintain an off-site office. My comic book creator client in Ireland and I had set up a Skype call. To set the scene, you should know that my mom is literally a lifelong hypochondriac, and she lives in the garden apartment downstairs in my walk-out basement. So there I was, plotting my PR plan of attack with my overseas comics client, deep in conversation. My peripheral vision caught something amiss, but not in time. In walked my mom, stage left, in Skype frame, her hand extended, holding a clear glass filled with 8 ounces of her urine.

"Do you think I have a UTI?"

She thought she was whispering, but she has just 15% of her hearing with the help of a cochlear implant, so her version of whispering is like me with a megaphone. Mom was hoping against all hope that she had something really wrong with her this time. She adores medical attention.

I was hoping against all hope that my Irish friend thought she was proffering a refreshing drink of pineapple juice, but I will never know for sure. I never asked. I requested he give me a quick pause, gently ushered my mom out of the screen shot, and patiently explained to her that I had neither the psychic nor scientific laboratory skills to diagnose her pee. Dejected, she shuffled back downstairs to her apartment, disgusted with my lack of concern.

Of course, my first thought was to call Marovich, my BFF and lifelong partner in crime. She choked on her coffee, laughing. Marovich and I always do this escalation thing. We keep piling on, enhancing on whatever funny thing the other one said with something even funnier. The end result? Her wife texted me this crudely drawn photo, as seen in the header. It's saved it in my "favorites" album on my phone. Whenever I need a proper cheering up, I'll glance at it again.

So, the moral to the story is...well...there isn't really a moral to this weird, little story. I guess I would just advise that you try to find the humor in every situation, especially the one you're in right now. And as something funny happens while you're working remotely, please--I implore you--share it with the rest of the class. We can all use a good tension breaker.