Having a Bad Hair Day
Tuesday, June 27th, 2006It was not the bluebird of happiness, but the result was just the same.
We had engaged the services of a local photographer to take our company headshots. And just seconds before the first picture was about to be taken, I got another headshot. I was putting my phone into my computer bag when I felt something smack me in the head.
“That did NOT just happen,” I shouted, as my shocked colleagues stared in disbelief.
Seagulls… the rat bastards of the sky. One nailed me with… G-d only knows with what. These things are scavengers after all. It’s enough to make one want to wretch.
Fortunately, there were, um, potty wipes around. And Stacy and Melissa wiped down my head so I did not have to return to the Quality Inn and wash my hair immediately.
I managed to get through the 2-hour photo shoot. When I got back to the hotel, I lathered, rinsed, repeated a bunch of times.
There were many memorable moments on this trip, but the one that brings Stacy to laughter with tears is the time the seagull shit on my head.
There is a certain amount of superstition that accompanies a pitch meeting. For example, I packed enough clothing for three trips, but somehow managed to forget the belt that goes with my suit. So John G is insisting that if we win the business from the pitch to which I went beltless, I can never where a belt to a pitch again.
There is a superstition that being shat upon by a flying bird brings good luck. Given the pitch meeting the day before, I am happy to take one for the team. Once.
