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Fall
Guy
By Bill Zahren
(Posted 05/15/03)
When you’re a busy person,
making moves, running with the big dogs, what you’ll want
to go ahead and do to impress your co-workers is fall down
in front of them.
And, if you could take your
plunge in the noisiest possible way, so much the better.
I first tried this technique
for meeting all the new co-workers on April 18, 1996. Even
after seven years, I still flash back every time I see an
office paper recycling bin sitting low and squatty, ready
to grab my ankle as it did back in 1996.
That’s when, during my time
as an internal creative for Gateway, Inc., a managed to fall
over a recycling bin in full view of new co-workers and --
here’s the special part -- a corporate attorney.
At some point during the fall
I realized that I was, in fact, falling out of control. "Freefall!"
my brain flashed, obviously shocked out of its bout the CEO's
Porsche by the view of a rapidly approaching floor.
A nanosecond after my brain
acknowledged that I was, in fact, going to fall completely
to the ground, I began to think about how utterly gooney I
must look -- arms flailing vainly for a handle, foot clawing
at the air Warner Brothers-like, ID badge chain jangling fiercely.
The next nanosecond was consumed
entirely by mental profanity. My entire vocabulary of naughty
words just sort of ripple fired out of my brain, starting
with the first thing I heard when I was 2 years old up through
the exotic, polysyllabic curses that I actually spent time
developing so they would be available for those moments of
engulfing rage.
About five-eighths of the way
to the floor I realized that everyone, perhaps even the Porsche-driving
CEO himself, could hear me, the goofus in Creative Services,
falling to the ground, thanks to the sound of the damn recycling
bin spanking up against the filing cabinet.
It had all the charm of someone
falling unexpectedly into an open manhole, but with much more
comedy. Slim solace as I neared impact.
Three, two, one -- touchdown.
"Houston, we have a body on the floor. Repeat, the Idiot Has
Landed."
The first thing that struck
me (besides the floor) is how strange the carpet felt on my
naked face and arms. The second thing was how strange a familiar
room looks when viewed from the floor. The third (and most
special) observation was that all activity in the entire area
(perhaps even on the nearby interstate highway) had come to
a total stop, except for the damn recycling bin which continued
to spank against the filing cabinet ever more loudly.
Then silence. Everyone eyeballed
me like an alien fresh in from Pluto. Quickly came The Question:
"Are you all right?"
Of course the answer was, "No.
I just fell on my damn face in front of my co-workers. How
can I be all right?" But I reminded myself that in this instance
the question is "are you physically all right?" Thankfully,
yes.
The only thing better than
falling on your face accompanied by rock-concert-level noise
is breaking a bone upon impact. Then you’d get into the whole
realm of ambulances and having to repeat the story of the
Journey to the Floor over and over for caring-yet-extremely
amused members of the medical community who would get hours
of shrieking laughter out of it while telling their co-workers
during breaks.
No injuries this time. Check
with me again if you hear what sounds like a violent, two-second
thunderstorm that can only be someone plunging to the floor,
preferably before vice presidents and perhaps even clients.
I’m sure I’ll probably survive that fall as well -- at least
physically.
But thanks for your concern.
©2003 Bill Zahren
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