Today two police detectives came to my office inquiring about individuals who have been up to no good. They showed me pictures. I didn’t know who the people were. This actually happens pretty regularly; my office/apartment building was once the dwelling place of many low-down, shady, no good characters…this was before my company took it over. Believe it or not, low-down, shady, no good characters oftentimes fail to fill out “Change of Address” forms when they move, so the coppers come a knockin’ every so often.
When these cops walked in, I was in the middle of something and the maintenance guy goes, “Kate, these men would like to speak to you about someone” and immediately I’m startled and then, for some odd reason, forgetting that this happens all the time, I think this must have something to do with ME and someone I know. So, they’re showing me pictures and no, I don’t know them and no, I have never seen them. But I’m still feeling nervous- like afraid that despite that fact that I have absolutely no idea who this man (often referred to as “Goldy Teeth”) is, these cops will think I am lying.
Does this ever happen to you?
Like, I’ll be at work and we’ll be in a meeting and someone will say, “So ‘n so moved in at 3am last night- did anyone know about that?” And I mean, no- why the HELL would anyone authorize that? (This question in itself should indicate the great minds at work in my office…) But there I sit, worried and anxious that somehow they’re going to think it was ME…and then I get even more nervous, because I’m worried that it’s visible that I’m anxious and that my visible discomfort will give me away. Give me away for what?! I DIDN’T DO IT!
This strange behavior (like many unexplained adult behaviors) can be traced directly back to my childhood- usually when things turned up broken or missing it WAS my fault and I WOULD lie…all-the-time!
One time I broke the fancy cup in the bathroom during a family party and acted like I had no idea who did it and when my mom was trying to figure it out, she ended blaming it on my grandpa simply because he was old and feeble- “Ohhh, it must have been grandpa.”, She said, “He probably didn’t even realize it. Oh, jeez…he’s really slowing down.” I felt terrible. Here’s my kind, old, endearing grandfather getting blamed for my clumsiness and general disrespect for other people’s things. But even then, consumed with guilt…I could-not-reveal-the-truth!
I cut my own hair when I was four and when my mom asked me about, I flat out told her I had no idea who did it. I had no idea who took my Crayola scissors and left a pile of blond hair on the carpet, leaving me with a huge chunk of my bangs missing…“So, you’re telling me, someone must have just SNUCK in here and chopped your hair off?! I don’t THINK so, missy!”
One time, while practicing my golf swing, I accidentally caused our chandelier to crash down on our dining room table full of Waterford crystal. That one was in front of the family, though…couldn’t lie about that one.
Anyway, I’ve cleaned up my act. I’ve matured, become more intelligent, and y’know, I’ve generally started taking responsibility for most of my actions. I say “most” because every so often, taking responsibility gets a little…annoying. Don’t judge. I know you feel me on this.
So, I carry on and bear the weight of my past sins and maybe, in time, the farther away I get from the days of Crayola scissors and cruelty to senior citizens, I will be able to stand proud and unflinchingly proclaim, “I didn’t do it!” without the constant worry of unmerited suspicion, brought upon by myself.