My poor boss was pulling out his hair trying to find me on the schedule. So I look down at what he had wrote.
“You know, it might help if you looked up my correct name.”
“Wha? It’s Blasko right?”
“No, it’s not Blasko, nor has it ever been Blasko for the entire fucking year I’ve been working for you.”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. I remember him talking about me with Larry the bike guy and still giving out the wrong name! As I stood right there, literally three feet from him, yelling out how to spell it! I’d say in one ear, out the other, but it doesn’t even make it in. More like, off the ear into the trash can…
“So, Tim, uh, how are you?”
“Fine. Why?” Not a good way to start of the morning. It’s six o’clock, it’s dark out, and I’m at work. Don’t rub it in.
“Just making sure, I heard about your accident, and was just checking up on you.” [Slapping me on the shoulder good-naturedly.]
Now my “accident” had actually happened the previous week. Which is why I had no idea what he was talking about. I scared half the store to death by almost collapsing at the front lanes.
I would’ve made it to the office had the one lady not kept talking to me. When my blood sugar’s that low, I can only do one thing. I can either, let’s say, walk, or talk. But not both. That’s when bad things happen.
“Tim, are you alright?”
See, here I had to stop walking to answer her. Thirty seconds later I mumbled out a barely audible, “No, not really.”
By this time my body was refusing to walk anymore. My legs had decided to form an “X” under me, which made the chances of me hitting the floor sometime soon pretty good.
She looked back. “Uh, Tim, really, are you alright?”
As my right leg keeps sliding to the left.
Luckily the wall behind me was willing to help keep me aloft until the muscle arrived. They kept wanting to know what I needed, all I wanted to tell them was:
“Please, please, please don’t call the paramedics. It’ll fucking cost me seventy bucks, and all they’re going to do is give me food I can eat by myself thank you. If you’re that scared, please just pick me up and drive me across the street to the hospital. Sure the bill will be greater, but I won’t have to return here after wards.”
I settled on a Sprite.