Stylish Handwriting

{via Chris Gold}

I was always the responsible one.

Growing up, I was that kid who made sure my little sister (who was the rebellious one) followed the rules. I tattled when she didn’t — which was most of the time. Or, more often than not, simply told her she was going to get in trouble.

I monitored. I made sure everyone was OK. I saw the bigger picture, most of the time.

As an adult, I am the same way.

I didn’t drink until I was 21. I don’t speed. (Causing my fiancé to tell me that I drive like his mom. That’s a good thing, right?!) If I have a drink at a party, I take a cab home. I organize my days. I organize my life, to the extent that I can. And I hold myself to a higher standard because I am a responsible one.

This story? Is about one of the times where I wasn’t as organized or responsible as I should have been.

Let me take you back two months ago…

It was the middle of the End of Quarter week. (Also know as ‘Hell Week.’ Those of y’all in sales know what I’m talking about.) As someone who works with data for a sales organization, the end of quarter is a crazy time. It means late hours, nonexistent lunch breaks and stress. Lots of stress, even though it is totally manageable.

I got into my car on Monday morning and noticed the gas light was on. I didn’t think much of it as I headed out to work. That evening, on my drive home, the light was still on, and I chose to ignore it, wanting to make it home for dinner instead of taking a 10-minute break at the gas station to fill up.

Repeat on Tuesday morning and evening.

Repeat Wednesday morning.

Wednesday was a little different, though. After work, I headed to meet some girlfriends to see Eclipse at a local movie theater. I was running behind already and thought to stop at the gas station on the way to the theater, but I chose against it and made it to the movie right before the opening credits. I told myself I would drive straight from there to the gas station on my way home.

After the movie let out, I made the executive decision to drive to Home Depot — which was a few miles from the theater — to see if they were still open to make a copy of my keys. The store was closed, and on my way home, I was struck by a brilliant idea: Why not turn off the mail road and map my running route to see how far I had been running?! Of course! That’s a great thing to do at 11 p.m. while driving home, right?!

I turned off the main road and coasted down the hill. I eased to a stop at the end of the street, then made a left onto another side street. In the MIDDLE OF THE TURN and, consequently, in the middle of two lanes of traffic, my car stalled out. I thought it was weird, especially since my car is new, and turned the ignition over once more. It stalled out again, making the most pathetic noise I have ever heard a car utter.

So I did what any responsible grown up would do: I started crying and called my fiancé, who had just gone to bed. In Texas.

After calming me down, meaning I was only slightly less hysterical and could actually form a sentence instead of sobbing, he discerned that my car had run out of gas.

WHAT?!

That’s stuff that only happens to 16-year-olds who just started driving and don’t pay attention to the gas gauge! That’s stuff that happens to irresponsible people! That’s stuff that happens to people who live paycheck to paycheck and sometimes are a little short on funds!

That does NOT happen to responsible 25-year-old women like me.

Except it did. And I cried some more to lament this fact.

He calmed me down again, and we came up with a game plan: I was going to call the Honda Hotline (since we have that), and then he was going to stay up and talk with me until someone came and rescued me.

About this time, a teenage boy in a HUGE truck pulled up beside me. He said he was going to pass by, but when he saw me in the car, he realized I didn’t know what to do and that I needed help. So this teenager named Jess single-handedly pushed my car off to the side of the road so I was no longer a sitting duck, and he gave me his number in case I couldn’t get anyone to help me get home. I assured him I would be OK — I had the Honda Hotline number — and profusely thanked him as he walked back to his truck.

After Jess drove off, I called the Honda Hotline and was immediately told my number was not recognized by the system and could I enter in my 12-digit passcode? Umm, don’t know what that is. So I sat back, pondered what I was going to do now and realized that I have a AAA card.

Bingo.

I punched in the number and was immediately directed to an operator who listened to my situation, assured me this happened all the time, and entered my call into the system as an emergency so a technician could come to me immediately and put some gas in my car.

As soon as I had given the operator all my information about where I was and what happened, I called fiancé back to report the good news. He stayed on the line with me and calmed me down more until the AAA technician arrived on scene, about 20 minutes later.

In less than 5 minutes after he arrived, my car was able to start again, and I drove off to the nearest gas station, fearing running out of gas again, but the next time, on a busy street.

I filled up, vowed this my car would never run out of gas again, then drove home, snuggled my puppy and thanked my lucky stars that nothing worse happened to me as I was stranded at night in the middle of a road in my neighborhood.

…

Has this ever happened to you? Did you react similarly? Differently? And if you have never run out of gas, are you judging me for being irresponsible? Because, before this occurrence, I would have totally judged me. Funny how one instance can change a perspective…

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