Laughing at Oneself is the Best Medicine

        I'd like to relay an anecdote from work. Last Saturday I opened up my place of employment (which shall hitherto remain nameless for reasons alluded to in my first blog). It was a cold February morning and I was up rather late the previous night, so I was especially tired. Otherwise it was a typical Saturday at work. I did the things I sometimes do at work, things which involve interacting with customers. It was uneventful until one of the customers I was interacting with, a 20 something white man in ghetto attire, said to me "Uh, hey dude, you've got some cream or something under your nose." Cream? Cream?! I don't use any cream, oh no, gosh, I hope my nose didn't run from the cold and create the ole' nostril crust. How embarrassing. I felt my face turn red. "Oh. Umm. I'm sorry, I'll be right back. Hold that thought." I rushed into the kitchen and rubbed my nose really hard with a wet paper towel. Then I did it again just to make sure. How many people had I cheerily served this morning all the while looking like a nostril crusted lunatic? It was one of those things that was better not thought about. I swept up my ego in the dustpan and went back to the customer. "You know sometimes late nights and early mornings don't mix" I said with a nervous chuckle. He just stared at me incredulously. I took his money, gave him his change and headed back to the kitchen where I scrubbed my nostrils once more for good measure. I hid back there until he left. Soon I forgot all about the incident. More customers came. I chatted them up, smiled, and got tipped. At one point we even got busy. Eventually two of my coworkers came in. (After the rush of course-- always after the rush.) I busied myself in the kitchen until the three of us had a pow-wow about something. Ten minutes into the conversation, my one coworker-- let's just call her Jamie-- goes "I can't stand it any longer, you've got toothpaste on your upper lip!" Who me? Wha? Oh noo! That's what he meant by cream! I started rubbing around my mouth frantically. "Here." she said, thrusting her compact mirror in front of my face. There it was in all it's glory, a big ole' spackle of toothpaste right where my Marilyn Monroe beauty mark should have been. What a goober I was! I probably got all of those tips out of pity.
        On my way home from work that day I found myself chuckling out loud about myself (I often turn into one of the Butler St. crazies on my walks home from work-- talking, singing, or laughing to myself). Out of God-know's how many people I encountered today only two had the guts to mention my toothpaste-Marilyn. Two. What an interesting social experiment. Too bad it was totally not an experiment. I pictured myself smiling at the customers and just laughed. I'm so glad that God gave me the ability to laugh at myself. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without it.