I have the worst luck with bras. If I'm not forgetting to wear them, I'm dealing with one fitting issue or another.
This morning I accidentally wore a bra that should have been thrown away. I noticed last night when putting it in my drawer that one of the underwires had snapped. I remember thinking that I needed to throw it away, but that thought must have immediately vacated my brain because the bra ended up right there in the drawer. And of course I didn't remember this morning when I put it on.
As soon as I got to work and sat down, I could feel something poking me under my right boob. It being the morning, and knowing I was stuck with the bra for the rest of the day, I knew I needed to take it off and remove the wiring.
That would be easy enough, as I have had to do it before, but the logistics of where exactly to do it suddenly became a big problem.
I could use a bathroom stall, but the sound of scissors trying to cut through a bra seam is surprisingly loud. And people don’t often bring scissors into the bathroom with them. I imagine it could start quite the conversation.
Coworker 1: Did you hear that weird cutting noise coming from the end stall?
Coworker 2: Yes! I wonder what the heck she’s doing in there. I saw her bring in some scissors.
Coworker 1: Quick, go look at the shoes so we can walk around later and find out who it is and then start spreading rumors!
So the bathroom was out. All of our offices have a giant window alongside the door. And I couldn’t go out to my car because the parking lot has cameras everywhere. I even considered trying to discreetly do it at my desk, but that would be the moment the CEO would have decided to give our Board Members a tour of my floor, and would they like to meet Laural and hear her unique perspective on her department’s operations? And then I would turn around, bra in hand.
After getting worried that I wasn’t going to be able to find a discreet place to get rid of the knife that was sawing into my tender flesh, I remembered that my boss was traveling out of town this week! Being rather high up on the ladder, HIS office doesn’t have a window at the door. I went in quickly and locked the door.
Finally, a place where I could get down to business! I felt a little awkward, being about to bare my breasts and all, as I work in a very corporate place and am a bit paranoid about little hidden cameras capturing my every move. So with this in mind, I took my bra off through my sleeves. They may catch me braless, but at least they wouldn't see my boobs. So, ha! And then I look up to the sound of banging, and see two window washers RIGHT THERE at the window.
At this point the bra is already off, so I sat down with all the dignity I could muster, turned my back to the window and started hacking away at the seam. After fighting forever to cut the cloth with my giant scissors, I was finally able to expose the wire. But when I tried to pull one of the pieces out, it wouldn’t budge! And all of this brown sand started to fall out. Closer inspection revealed that it wasn't sand, it was rust. The wire had rusted! And not only had it rusted, it had adhered itself to the cloth and wouldn’t come out.
I grabbed onto a piece with the scissors and pulled with all my might. It finally dislodged, but instead of gently sliding out into my hand, it flew out and landed somewhere across the room. I heard it ping near the filing cabinet, and when a search yielded nothing, I’m pretty sure it's resting somewhere behind it.
So just to sum up the situation here, the window washers saw a woman take off her bra, sit down with some scissors, and after flinging something across the room, get down on her hands and knees to search the floor. Not your usual office show.
When I sat back down to pull out the remaining wire, I noticed that the other side had snapped as well. I was going to be in there for a while.
After two more pieces of missing wire and a struggle to get my bra back on without taking off my shirt (after the window washers had moved on), I emerged from my boss' office red faced and sweaty. But at least I won't have to worry about that pesky poking anymore.
I wonder if the person who eventually finds those three missing pieces of wire will know what they are. And if they do, if they'll wonder what the heck goes on in that office when the door is closed.