I have had a great time reading at the University Club of St. Paul. My reading caused roaring laughter. Here is the story and you can laugh yourself. I will download the video to YouTube and share soon.
Can You Tighten My Bra
By Lisa Wharton 05/30/2014
I knew her through work like most new people I have met
nowadays. We often ran into each other
at the only bathroom in the garage. Yes. My office was built into the first floor
garage of an air conditioning company where I worked as a consulting engineer. I often walked along dollies, big heavy
machinery, and giant sweepers operated by men.
Sometimes I passed by a group of workers standing in line to punch their
time cards. Their often-leering stares sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t belong here and I knew it. But I tried.
That’s why I started talking to our cleaning lady, Mona, in the bathroom
or the hallway. She was a loud petit
woman of 63 and loved to talk. Of
course, I wasn’t sure I liked talking to her all the time.
“Hey, Lisa. Would you
like to come to my house for a Jewelry party next Saturday? I live really close.” She asked earnestly,
which was reflected by her huge eyes behind her glasses.
“I don’t have much time, especially on weekends. Sure.
I will think about it.” I didn’t know how to just say no to my new
friend.
She immediately offered me a postcard and a thick catalog that
had Mary Kay in it. No, I didn’t want to
have anything to do with Mary Kay. I
heard myself shouting. Then, of course,
if she had a pink Cadillac, then I might consider it. I wouldn’t mind knowing a good Mary Kay
saleswoman. But I would never wear that kind
of costume Jewelry. Who did she think I
was, just an airheaded model?
She loved to look at herself in the mirror. She seemed to never have a good hair
day. She had matted, straight, shoulder
length hair, which reminded me of steel spikes pointing down. But she liked to comb it even though there
was nothing really to be combed. She
liked to adjust her glasses on her wrinkled skin. She said, “I’m tired a lot”. Even though I was so tired of hearing it, I
did sympathize. After all, she walked the
whole day throwing garbage around. She
often cried about her twin sister who died of syphilis and her brother of diabetes.
One day she told me, “I’m going to a concert in two weeks
and one day and 8 hours.” “Which concert
and where?” I asked politely. “It’s at the Maplewood Community Center,” she
said with the same enthusiasm. “Have you
heard of Bret Michaels?” Her eyes
suddenly all lit up. She said in such
urgency as though if I didn’t know about him, she would slap me. “No. Who is he?” Of course, I had never heard of him, but I
wanted to learn more. “He is a very
sweet Rock & Roll guy. Oh, I can’t
wait to see him. I’m in love with him.”
A couple of days later, I ran into Mona in the hallway. She stopped the big garbage can on wheels and
tried to take a few pictures out of a sandwich bag. “See.
This is HIM. Look, he gave me a
hug. He kissed me, too.” “Nice.
He looks very cute”, I said. “Yeah. He is so cute. I love him so much. I’m his groupie.” “Does your husband care?” I
asked. “No. He knows that I’m in love with Bret. I go every concert he has in town. I wish that I could afford to go to some out
of town ones. I love him so much.” She said with tears in her eyes. I didn’t exactly understand her love for this
hippie singer. But her emotion moved me
and I started to like her a little more until something else happened.
I ran into her in the bathroom one day. When I got out of my stall, I saw her looking
at herself in the mirror as usual. She
looked engrossed in private thoughts. In
order not to disturb her, I picked up my teacup and tried to slip out of the
door. Then I heard, “Hey, can you tighten my bra?” “What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “I hurt my right arm yesterday and can’t lift
it up. Can you help me?” She said sincerely. I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t really mind helping her. Yet from all the sexual harassment training I
had at my previous jobs, I knew I shouldn’t do it. It could get me in trouble. What if she decided to sue me? But I couldn’t just refuse. She would be offended and then I still had to
see her every day in the bathroom or in the hallway. It would be awkward. If I helped her, it would be awkward,
too. So I decided to treat it with humor. “You have weird requests,” I said. “Besides, I also hurt my arm yesterday. You
see.” I pretended having trouble lifting my arm. “You are out of luck. Maybe
you can ask one of the guys to help you.” She laughed. “You, bad girl.” I
smiled innocently and slipped out the door before she could react. During the rest of the day, we just said
“Hello” to each other whenever we saw each other in the hallway or
bathroom. The more I thought about it,
the more I wanted to laugh. It might have
been a totally innocent request. I
remembered once that she asked me to scratch her back. I actually helped her. She just simply didn’t know the current corporation
sexual harassment policiess. She didn’t
even know how to “work” the computer in her own words. So how could she get computer training about
sexual harassment? I was desperate to
share this incident with other people as kind of a bad joke. But I knew if I did, people might
misunderstand the situation and reach a different conclusion. They might even think we were lovers. Eventually
I did tell it to the lady I often ran into in the changing room before and
after running. She laughed, too.
Two days later, Mona came to my cubicle and said, “I’m so
sorry to have asked you to, you know? My
daughter told me to apologize to you.”
She looked sincerely sorry. “No
problem. Don’t worry about it”, I
replied. “I just didn’t want to get into
any trouble.”
In the next few days, I thought that even though Mona was
the most uneducated person I had ever known, she was actually an interesting
person in her own way. Now I don’t work
there anymore and I even miss her sometimes.
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