. . . some moron burned the popcorn. And, it was me. The near fire-alarm smoke-out happened last week. Despite this recent news and a colleague’s warning not to burn it because “the last time that happened it stunk like heck,” I pressed in 2:00 and WALKED. A. WAY.
A short time later, oh, about two minutes or so, we all had the taste of popcorn in our mouths … and hair, clothes … office walls. And the microwave? Forgetaboutit. Despite several scrub downs and a box of baking soda, it was fried, literally… butter and all.
So what do my friends at Standing Partnership do? Nothing. Not a word, save a few quiet jokes. They went out and bought a new microwave, with a “popcorn” button, plugged it in and left the old one by the trash. It, yes the microwave, laughed at me I’m pretty sure, as I hung my head in embarrassment. The box, it mocked me too and said that I’ll see it tomorrow when I’m packing my stapler.
But my real friends? They didn’t mind. And they didn’t hand me the box. They just helped me pick up the pieces and move on. ‘Cause we all have moments that stink. And we all help each other out. (Insert smile.)