Screw Up

The other day at work, some customer complained to me about the Dr. Pepper being out of syrup. So, reluctantly, I headed to the back to put a knew thing of syrup on the pump. It was my first time doing it by myself, but I was determined. But, first off, those syrup bags are HEAVY. It's like trying to lift a house of its foundation-- that's how freaking heavy they are. Somehow, though, I manage to get the syrup down and onto the cart. I begin opening the cardboard, but the whole isn't big enough to get the nozzle out, so I grab a knife. Now, lets get something straight, that cardboard syrup box was plastered with no less than 10 pictures  of "do not use knives" signs. But I told myself I'd just be extra careful. As I start sawing the cardboard away, suddenly a dark liquid starts oozing everywhere--- I'd poked the bag. Before I knew it, I had my shift manager, co-worker, and boss all surrounding me. My co-worker kept saying with a grave voice and a confused look in his eyes, "It says don't use knives! It says it everywhere! Don't use knives!" They ended up having to throw the whole thing of syrup away (which my step dad later informed had to be fairly expensive) and I was mortified. I asked my boss if I was fired and he responded with, "No, as long as you aren't messing up everyday, you're okay." "But I am messing up everyday!" I said. He thought about this for a second, then said, " Well, that's true." Neither of us really knew what to say after that.

What have I done

The other day I'm sitting in debate class and we're talking about kids and when they mature. My teacher brought up the point that all kids mature at different times. He gave an example of his wife, who didn't  start having a period until she was 16. That in and of itself was a bit awkward, but not too bad. He goes on to say, "I know, all the girls here are going, 'What?! I started when I was like 4!'" Of course, all the girls in the room start to laugh knowing full well that it's basically impossible to go through puberty at that age. Me, always repeating everything funny that I hear, scoffed and said, "I started when I was 4!" Just then, the little freshman in front of me turns around and gives me the most horrified look I've ever seen in my life, thinking that I really had started when I was four. I just stared back at him, not really knowing what to say. Yeah, it was just a freshman, but the senior boy next to him was pretty fine looking, and if he was anywhere near as ignorant as the freshman, he also thought I started puberty at age four. So there I was, sitting in debate class, everyone uneducated thinking I was some kind of freak of nature. I didn't know how to explain to them that I was just repeating what the teacher had said. All I could think was, "What have I done."

Jobs

I started my new job yesterday....
It's at a Mexican restaurant and I'm the only white, non-Hispanic there. I could barely understand anybody and I messed up countless times. I made a fool out of myself in front of everybody. It was a bit humiliating.

Do you have any terrible work experiences? Let us know about them!

-Anna

Car Troubles

My car doors aren't automatic. Yeah, that means you gotta roll the windows up by hand and lock all the doors one by one. It's pretty awful, but a car's a car. Anywho, I've locked myself out of my car countless times. It's the worst feeling ever. One week, I locked myself out 3 times! My dad had to come break in to it for me each time, and it was humiliating.
After locking myself out for the fourth time, I realized I needed to be more careful. So, I made sure I always had my keys with me and it became habit to check that I had my keys BEFORE locking the car and stepping out. A few months went by, and pretty soon I had a good streak going.
Until one day when I was in a hurry.
I was clear down the street, almost a block from my house, when I had to quickly jump out of my car. I can't even remember why I had to get out, but I know I had to; I was in a huge hurry. Anywho, I accomplish whatever I needed to step out of the car for, and turn to go back into my car-- psych, it's locked. I check all the doors-- all locked. GREAT.
So there I am, in the middle of an already narrow street, blocking traffic, my car is STILL running so I'm wasting my gas, and times ticking away. My dad was home sick, so I didn't want to bother him (plus, he lives a mile away). My step-dad was at home taking a nap, and he didn't want to help. And no one else was home. So I grabbed a hanger and some screw drivers and tried to mimic what I'd seen my dad do to break into my car.
I've never been so humiliated in all my life.
I was there for an hour, blocking traffic in the middle of the street, with everyone I've ever known squeezing around my car. Not one person stopped to help. In fact, my Uncle was even coming down the street, and turned THE OTHER WAY so he wouldn't have to help me. I looked worn, sweaty, helpless, and absolutely pathetic. I've never felt so bad for myself in all my life. And to make matters worse, I started bawling.
I finally ended up calling my dad. After another 35 minutes, we finally got it open. My gas was basically gone and so was my dignity.

-Anna

Kiss it Goodbye

So, I've been looking around for a job, right? And yesterday, I go to Zupas and on the front door, there's a help wanted sign. I figure it wouldn't be a bad job, so when I get home, I apply online. The way you apply for Zupas online was super confusing to me, so I kind of gave up on it, thinking they wouldn't call me because it wasn't even complete.
Today, during lunch, I get a call from an unknown number. Lately, I've been getting calls at least once a day from some cruise line trying to sell to me. So,  when I saw this strange number, I figured it was just the cruise line again and I rolled my eyes explaining my frustration to my friend. She insisted I let her answer the call, so, against my better judgment, I let her. She answers it with, "BlahhGoobooMrr" or some kind of gibberish baby talk. Then she persist to say, "STAHP calling me!!" In her best impression of Jimmy Fallon's "Sara", and hangs up. We laugh about it after, thinking we're so clever and funny.
Then the number calls again. Holiday Cruise Line doesn't ever call back.
But by this point, I'm too frustrated that they're still bugging me to think logically and I answer the phone with an irritated, "Hello?"
Voice on the other end: "Hi! Is this Anna?"
Me, in a still irritated and somewhat smart-alecky voice: "Yeah, this is she." (because I think it's sooo ugly when people say, "this is she!")
Her: "Well Hi! This is the manager from Café Zupas and we we're just looking at your online application, do you have a few minutes?"
Me to my friend: I'm going to kill you.
Manager proceeds: "Ha.. ha, um, was that you who answered the phone the time before?"
Me to my friend: Yeah, we're not friends anymore.
I explain to the kind lady that, no(!!), that was not me, it was my friend trying to be funny. She then replies with, "Oh good! I was pretty scared..."
Yeah, yeah me too.
Let's just kiss that job goodbye.

-Anna

Not Cool Enough

I didn't know how many embarrassing experiences I had until I started this blog...

I was at school one day waiting outside my teacher's door to go into class. The bell had rang, but the teacher was still on his lunch break, so the whole class was waiting. This girl that I've known my whole life (same soccer team as kids, same elementary school. etc, etc.) came up to me and said, "Hey Anna!" in her usual perky way. I smiled and said hey back louder than was necessary. But she didn't stop at me. She continued to walk past me to the cuter, way more popular Anna behind me that I hadn't known was there... I felt so stupid. So I slowly just faded away behind a group of people. The worst part was, we were still all stuck there 'cause me teacher hadn't come back yet.

-Anna

Truth Hurts

I'm on two soccer teams, so I have two different goalies. Today, the goalie from my one team played with my other team in our game because we needed more players. Let's call her Jen. My other goalie, Katie, I love and think she is the greatest goalie I've ever had. After our game, I was congratulating Katie, telling her she's my favorite goalie ever. Then I felt a slug to the shoulder. Jen was right there. "Thanks, Anna." she said bitterly and walked away. I was so embarrassed. I don't think Jen and I are friends any more.

-Anna

Tackled

The other day an old friend, who I haven't seen in a few years, invited me to attend his tennis match that was at my school. I had no reason not to go, so I went. My friend Dominique came with me and we set our christmas blankets (they're the comfiest blankets I own)  up on the hill; it was the perfect view. As we are waiting for the game to start, I see my friend start to make his way over to us. Thinking that he had seen me and had come to say hi, I jumped up and started to walk to him. The awkward part was, he actually hadn't seen me and walked straight past me to his other buddy. At that point, I felt pretty stupid. But I continued to yell his name, and he finally saw me. He was so excited to see me, he ran to me, threw his arms around me and tackled me down the hill. And there we were- entangled, tumbling down the grass. Now THAT was awkward.
Afterwards, his friend came up to us and said to him, "Heard you tackled a girl down the hill. Nice one. Everyone's talking about it." And I just sat there like, yeah, that girl was me...
Not sure who that was more embarrassing for, me or him.

-Anna

A Nighmare in Hale

One night, my grandma invited me to a play at the Hale Center Theater in Orem. For those that haven't been there, the stage is basically ten by ten feet and the chairs circle around it. So it's a pretty cozy, intimate place. Anywho, we start the night off going to a nice dinner and frozen yogurt, and I'm feeling fine. Right before the play starts, I start to feel sick to my stomach, but I brush it off. We take our seats, which are right smack dab in the middle row in the middle seat, and the play starts. I'm doing okay, but my stomach really isn't feeling all that hot. Then about 15 minutes into the play, I feel like I'm about to die. But I don't feel like I'm going to throw up and I don't feel like I'm going to.. you know, have it come out the other end, so I just wait it out hoping the feeling passes, because it's pretty rude to get up in the middle of a play (especially in a place that small). However, there comes a point when I just CAN NOT sit there any longer. So, I hop up, stumble over everybody, get to the isle way-- and all heck breaks lose. All of the sudden, I'm barfing EVERYWHERE and can't stop. Some stage manager hands me a trash can, and I continue to throw up into that. And I'm barfing so hard... it comes out the other end as well. So here I am, barfing and crapping my pants all at the same time. I'm humiliated and I smell awful. However, I have to walk BACK into the theater and ask my grandma for her phone to call my dad. After convincing grandma that, yes, I did need to leave and could not stay for the rest of the play, she relents and hands over her phone. So I call my dad, he says he's on his way, and I go sit on the bench outside the building. But it doesn't end there. Suddenly, I look up and see a stag door opening and four figures walking out-- they're the actors from the play and they decide to come talk to me. They ask if I was the girl who threw up everywhere (and ruined the play, hint hint), then tell me their stories of barfing in grade school. And all the while I'm just thinking, "I smell like throw up and poo, don't you have a play to get to??"

-Anna

My Ross Geller Moment

Once upon a time, there was a pretty cute boy in my math class. He as also in my English class, and I thought I saw him staring at me during English quite often... One day, during math, there was one minute left and I was trying to get as much of my problems done as I could before the bell rang. Out of the blue, cute boy says, "How many problems can you do in one minute? Ready, go!" Later, my friends tried to convince me that this was his way of flirting... but I didn't see it that way. Especially at the time. So I just looked at him and stared. I racked my brain of SOMETHING to say... but my mind was blank. How the crap was I supposed to respond to that without sounding like an idiot, "Um.. ten." ??  After 15 seconds of awkward eye contact, he says, "So.... none?" "Yep." I finally replied. And he walked away probably thinking I was the biggest idiot he's ever talked to. He hasn't looked at me or said a word to me since...
Wait for it.
Later, I was facebook stalking him (come on, we ALL do this). And you know how it is; after so long, you get pretty deep into photos, some of which are years old. While in these years-old photos, I tried to tap next, but accidently tapped over his face. Somehow, some freakin how, I managed to tag myself as him in the photo. So now I was tagged as him and he was going to get a notification about it and he would know that I was totally FB stalking him. I dreaded the next day at school.
The more I think about it... "Um...ten." probably would have been less stupid sounding than acting like a complete mute.

-Anna

Will I Ever Learn?

Hey guys, back again with another one.

So I'm at the movie theater and my movie just ended. Like always, my family makes a pit stop at the bathroom on the way out. So I go too. Naturally, I set toilet paper down (duh) to cover the seat and do my business. It all goes well, I finish, wash my hands, etc., etc., yeah yeah. Then we leave. That night, my little brother was in a play at my elementary school. I think I'm like the big cheese or something because I'm a sixth grader now (lets remember this story takes place a good 5-6 years ago) and I BASICALLY rule that school. So I go, and I'm too-cool-for-school so I stand all cool-like against the wall. I talk to some people I know, walk around a bit (cause, obviously, I'm too cool for just standing), talk to some more people. The night's going great. When it comes time to leave, we walk back to our car and while I'm walking, my cousin says, "Oh, nice, Anna!" and pulls a 3 foot long piece of toilet paper out of my pants.
I didn't feel so cool then.
In fact, I was mortified. I never wanted to step foot in that school, or see any of those people, ever again.

Oh yeah... reminds me of a time I was at a soccer game of mine. I use aporta poty then walk across the field in front of EVERYONE. Yes, once again, I had toilet paper hanging out of my pants.

Wait... I was at dinner one night at a nice restaurant with my whole family. Once again, I use the restroom and sit back down in my seat. After dinner is over, I get a Snap Chat of... me. It's the back of my pants, and there's toilet paper hanging from it.

Will I ever learn?
No... No, never.

-Anna Warner (me)

What's your story?

Hey guys.
I get it. Life is rough. You try and you try, but it seems like no matter what you do, you're constantly drowning in the crap of life. Let's face it-- crap happens. Don't deny it. The best way to push through crap is to accept it and move on. Then again, it does happen to everyone!
But, the best part is, eventually you will look back on all your mortifying experiences and all the crap you suffered through and realize that you have some great stories to tell. Some are unbelievable, some are humorous, but all are priceless.

Let me share with one of my most prime stories.

Now, I could tell you about the time I tooted in the face of the boy sitting next to me in 5th grade, or of the time I drove right in front of a fire truck, just about cutting it off (In my defense, the light was green). But no, those events don't even come close to taking the cake.
Why don't you just sit back, relax, and reminisce with me as I relate with you my most priceless story yet.

Anybody that knows me knows that I may (or may not) have a bladder problem. I can hold it in for as long as the next girl... but if you tickle me or make me laugh too hard, I will pee. No if's, and's, or but's- it will happen (That in and of itself is embarrassing enough). And when it's been a long day at soccer practice and I've already been holding my bladder for a while because the only bathroom around was a narsty porta potty a mile away, you know craps about to go down.
It was half way through practice when my 20 year old boy coach announces he'd like to go one-on-one with each of us, just to see where our skills are. I don't mind this, because I'm pretty confident in myself, and coach doesn't scare me. All the girls take their turn successfully (more or less) as they attempt to steal the ball from him. Then it's my turn. I kick the ball to him and run up to defend. Everything is going great; I'm keeping him out and almost getting my foot on the ball. But then he decides to get fancy with his footwork- it pretty much went downhill from there. As he did a complex cross over, my feet got tangled up in his, and down we went. He falls first, and then it's my turn. Before I know it, my 13 year old self is draped prone over my 20 year old coach.
Wait for it, because it gets worse.
 Swiftly, I roll off of him. As I lay there in the grass, I feel so awkward, I don't know what to do-- so I laugh. But he doesn't find it at all humorous. Instead of sharing the laugh, he hops up and, without taking a second glance at me, yells "Next!". I'm about to get up when I realize I'm wet; I've peed my pants... on top of my coach. Let me simplify; I had just peed on my soccer coach.
I glanced to the porta potty-- it'd have to do; this was no time for being picky. I hopped up and I ran, didn't grab no bag or nothin', I ran, like I've never ran before, to that freakin porta potty. For ten minutes, I desperately tried to dry my shorts with toilet paper, but it was to no avail. Mortified and feeling like an idiot, I walked slowly back to practice, hoping nobody could tell that my shorts were soaking wet. But I think my coach already knew.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of the time I peed on my soccer coach. I hope you had a good laugh, or a good smile- whichever you needed.  Heaven knows we all need a good something these days. And heaven also knows it's nice to get these stories off our chest. So now it's your turn: What's your story? Share it for others, share it for yourself.

If you have an embarrassing, "What the heck", or any other unbelievable story you're willing to share with the world, email it to me at crapwillhappen@gmail.com and I'll post it on the blog! Don't be ashamed! We'd love to hear it!