Just before I left work today I ducked into the women's room to pee. I was washing my hands when I looked up to see a thick streak of Clinique's Coffee lipstick smeared up the left side of my face. It wasn't a small smudge or a slight bleeding of color, but a giant mark that looked like a gash. I had waited on four tables since I last reapplied that lipstick.
I had served drinks and plated desserts and opened a bottle of wine and talked to my co-workers for a half hour and every single person neglected to tell me I had lipstick up to my ear. I wiped it as best I could and immediately found another server to ask her why she's hadn't said anything. She claimed to not have seen it.
I left work shortly thereafter and went straight to the bank. While waiting for the teller to deposit my cash I listened to a woman training another woman on the computer. In the midst of talking about interest rates and IRAs she farted really loudly and for a long time. The male teller who was counting my money smiled broadly, but never skipped a beat. My eyes hit the floor but not before getting a look at the offending lady whose face burned hot enough to melt snow. Her trainee sat startled and silent beside her.
My shoe made a wet vibrating noise on the freshly waxed floors just before I hit the door, and I had to laugh once outside at the ridiculousness of it all. Only an hour before I was mortified I'd walked around telling people about the delicious Arctic char with a red smear of makeup on my face, but OMG, the trainer lady at the bank TOTALLY FARTED.