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Sunday, July 27, 2014


Although my IQ has been assessed one point higher than my highly intelligent husband, there are times when I am not as compos mentis as the results would suggest. 

After last weeks embarrassing catastrophe, where I threw sticky orange liquid all over the counter, at the convenience store, I decided to avoid the drink section at all costs.  However, Samantha has a passion for their sodas, and we generally enter the said store each day after our lunchtime swim.  On the day that they were giving away free soft drinks, I had no option but to step up to the counter with my selection, which I was retrieving for Dana, as I do not partake of the gooey liquid.  Samantha took all the steps necessary to ensure that I did not come into contact with the cup until the last possible moment, and I stood at the counter, with my phone in hand, to flash the app, and waited for the cashier.  'I can take that over here', was all she wrote!  I did not consider my own welfare, nor that of the staff, and automatically responded to the request made, by picking up the cup and walking three steps to my right.  How I bumped into the counter is still a mystery to me, but the container left my hand from a height that would cause the widest splash range, possible.  My profuse apologies were taken in good spirit, and the young lady blamed herself for making me move, and suggested I help myself to another beverage.  'I'll get it!' shouted my daughter, as she stood me in the corner and gave me a look as if to say, 'hands on head!' 

The pre-schooler in the back of the shop was just being observant.  His mother chastised him for calling me a 'Crazy lady'.  When he pleaded the case for his defense, and added, 'But she is.  She has just thrown the soda all over the floor!', his mother pulled him behind the stands, out of sight.  Samantha was behind the very same stand, and stood in the witness box.  'She is crazy!', she announced to the boy and the young mother seemed to be relieved.  It appears that recently, a small boy of similar age had been with his mother in a cake store and had asked if the lady serving them, who was of 'larger size', was expecting a baby.  The mother had made the child apologise, and had apologised herself, but the manager decided to ban the kid from the store, for offending his staff.  Having ascertained that the crazy lady was Samantha's mom, the rear of store party headed forward towards the counter, and the trembling offender (aka Crazy lady).  The back store story was retold as I stood and watched the poor cashier mop up the mess.  I looked at the youngster as he scanned me out of the corner of his eye, and said, 'this is why you have to be good for your mom!'  Fortunately, mom found this to be amusing, and agreed!

Stupid appeared to be on the agenda for the week.  I took the post to the small box outside our office, before heading out for the lunchtime constitutional.  The container was quite full, and I pushed the letters in so that they did not stick out of the small gap.  Why is it that fingers wearing rings will go into a confined space, but will not come out?  Samantha had got into her car, and started the vehicle, ready for me to jump in as soon as I had deposited the mail.  'I'm stuck', were words that seemed to cause not only slight amusement, but hysterical laughter!  However, before she came to my rescue, she found it necessary to record the event for posterity, and I remained confined to the metal stand, while she took a variety of pictures!  Perhaps she was going to track down the young boy who had called me 'crazy', and give him more evidence for his defence!  Our office clerk, Jason, emerged from the building, heading out to lunch, and stood watching as this event took place.  Confused at first as to why Samantha was making a record of me posting a few letters, he soon ascertained the situation, and rather than offer help, or a possible solution, stood and laughed heartily.  Unable to release my hand, as it was the left extremity that was caught, and there was not enough space to manoeuvre my right hand to do the job, I had to wait for the audience to compose themselves before receiving assistance.  Eventually, composure was regained, and the victim was released, with only pride being injured!

Determined to live up to my IQ points, I was very careful during the rest of the week, and chose the 'more haste, less speed' attitude. The calm and collected exterior reflected the patience within.  Everything took slightly longer to accomplish, but there were no mistakes. 

I was quite sure that my 'new' approach had been put into place when Samantha requested I draft an email on her behalf!  As her passport was due to expire, she had sent all the relevant documentation to England, with a note that she would like everything returned to our business address.  Unfortunately, unless you send evidence that this address is either a mailbox facility, or workplace, or somewhere other than home, where you are likely to be, to receive your package, they require an originally signed document from either your employer, pastor (?) or other person (or persons) dictating the reason for delivery to somewhere other than the address given on the form as your residence.  They provided a confirmation form which could be downloaded, and mailed to their office, so that they could arrange dispatch.  As this would add another two to three weeks to the process, she decided that it was unnecessary to delay, and asked if I would write something, to ask for the althernative address request to be ignored.  I was positive that I had suggested she read the email before blindly resending it to the relevant department.  I was positive that I had headed the email, 'read this and check the address, before sending'.  Her address is rather long, and convoluted.  She has an apartment number, with an apartment building number. The apartment block also has a street number, and the street itself is a number!  I am surprised that upon receipt of correspondence containing her address, that she has not won the lottery!  However, I digress!  A call was received on her cell phone, from a number she did not recognise, and as is her practice, she handed the mobile device to me!  (We are sometimes misunderstood, and much as my daughter has no problem instructing me how to do things, she can sometimes get tongue tied when talking to strangers!  Our accent is quite often a problem!)  David was very polite.  He was calling from England.  He wanted to speak to Samantha.  I passed the phone back to her and listened to her side of the conversation.  After answering some security questions, she laughed, 'No, that is not my address', and proceeded to give him the correct list of numbers that constitute the numerical value of her residence.  She laughed again, and told David that everything could be sent to her home.  We returned to work, and were attempting to ascertain whether something had actually been filed with a court, or merely lost in transit, when David rang again!  A much more hearty laugh came from Samantha as she walked out of the office.  A few seconds passed and she reappeared with a look of disapproval upon her face.  (I wondered if the young lad in the convenience store would ever look at his mother that way!  The poor child who was banned from the cake store would be hung,, drawn and no doubt, quartered, if he dared!)  'What address did you write in the email', she demanded to know.  I shrugged, and suggested that as her address was similar to a roulette wheel, I had just taken the numbers at random and hoped for the best, hence the request to 'double check'.  Apparently, the address I had given could have been the equation that would have proved string theory!  Her passport was destined for an unknown star in the cosmos, but David had caught the error, (and no doubt became a contender for the Nobel Prize for Science!)  and the documents were now heading back to the blot on the landscape that is the home of my daughter. 

I do understand that my Intelligence Quotiant, does not mean I am precluded from acting in a less than perceivably intelligent manner. Of course, being able to complete a set of tasks that qualifies me for MENSA, does not mean that I have been blessed with common sense!  It purely means I can complete a set of tasks that qualifies me for MENSA!  I recall a young beaver scout, who was intellectually not only beyond his fellow members, but also some of the adults who oversaw the troop.  He ran around an obstacle course in the park, came running up to my colleague and myself, and stated, 'That was fun, what should I do now'.  The suggestion that he should run round again was received with wild enthusiasm, as if we had answered an age old enigma!  The less clever children were on their third and fourth lap!  I may have the formula to release my hand from the postbox, but not necessarily the skill!  I may have the formula to release my hand from the postbox, but not the one to stop me getting it stuck in the first place!

I have set myself a challenge for next week; keep out of trouble!  I will be looking to see if anyone called 'David' receives any extraordinary accolades.  I will be looking to see if any children have been banned from shops because they noticed a fashion faux pas.  I will be looking for anything that will give me ...... another story.

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