Last night, I worked at the makeup store from 8-10 pm, restocking shelves after the arrival of a huge product shipment.
I walked into the stockroom to find 200ish boxes of goodness: lipsticks, hair straighteners, perfumes in pretty atomizers, holiday gift sets, sparkly false lashes. I also found pizza, cookies, a good ol’ fashioned boom box blaring Beyoncé, and 20 other girls ready for the Re-stocking Party.
As we tore through boxes, one of the girls commented that she was on a caffeine high, having just hit up Starbucks on the way in. Another coworker, Linda, replied that she was feeling quite the opposite.
“I took a bath with my son before I came here, so I’m ready for bed!” she said.
A few girls stopped what they were doing and stared at her. “With your son?” one of them asked.
“Yeah,” Linda said. “Sometimes we bathe together.” She paused, then added: “Oh! He’s only 3. He’s just a baby!”
“Oh!” another girl replied. “I was about to be really weirded out!”
“I don’t see what’s so weird about that,” I said. “I bathed with my parents before I came in tonight, too!”
Wouldn’t you know it? Complete silence. No one thought it was funny.
Oh, also, my boss walked into the room just in time to hear the last half of my comment.
Why do I even try to be funny anymore?