Tutoring Catastrophe

Oh man, forget every embarrassing story you have heard because have I got a story for you. Well, how do I even begin? And pictures in this post will not be necessary.

Ah yes, it is Friday morning 10AM, the normal time when I drive my little motorcycle half an hour south to a small company for a two hour tutoring session with a group of Taiwanese businesspeople. It is a pretty legit session as I sit at the head of a conference table, leading discussions, writing important things on a whiteboard as they copy it down in their little notebooks, believing everything I say.

This particular day, the boss finds out I drive a motorcycle and is saying how cool and rare it is to see girls driving them (he speaks too soon). I usually have about five or six regular students but this day, for fate would not have it any other way, people keep trickling in and soon the room is full of businesspeople asking me how to make fight someone and make good threats. I walk up to the board and write, “I’ll kick your ass.” I explain that if you want to have a comeback to someone mocking you, you can say that or even, “kiss” instead of “kick”. So discussing and having everyone practice the phrase, we delve into a pretty deep discussion.

This day, Friday, I am wearing jeans rolled up to my calf, some pretty decently heeled shoes that my mom bought from me from Macy's, and a nice top- professional clothes for the professional that I am. Ahem. That is when I sit down and feel something odd on my right leg. A few days earlier I had gotten a burn on my leg from the muffler on my motorcycle and had bandaged it up pretty recklessly, so I figure it must be the bandage having come apart and stuck to the side of my calf. But when I reach down to touch my calf that is not what I find, not in the least bit.

What I feel is something quite soft, yes, soft and lacy, soft and lacy like underwear. Holding my breath, l look down and sure enough I see yesterday’s dirty underwear sticking halfway out of my rolled up jeans, dangling like some kid sticking its tongue out at me. Oh the fear and humiliation that accumulates in me this second, as I realize I have been walking up and down the conference room with my dirty underwear sticking out of my leg! I guess when I had showered the night before I had just thrown my jeans on my chair and then put them on again this morning, not realizing that the underwear was still inside, traveling down from the zipper to the right leg. Blast! No time to panic, NO TIME TO PANIC!

I keep the pace of the conversation, reach down and extract the foul embarrassment from my leg, and settle it on my lap as I causally reach for my small purse, open it and try to make room for my underwear and my pride. I manage to discreetly do that, though I am sure everyone has already seen everything, and I continue the rest of the two hour session a bit more nervous and twitchy.

Well if they didn’t get a good look at my shame then, they sure see it when, now, at the end of the session I open my purse to put in the money and resting on top of my wallet are those unabashed panties, singing songs of mockery.
I have no shame anymore because I have no pride, it disappeared the day businesspeople saw my dirty underwear displayed artistically on my pitiful bare leg.