Here's a tale of supreme awkwardness that I recently lived through. Enjoy!
Two weeks ago, a classmate and I had met at a Tim Hortons in Regina for a pre-interview with the subject of my classmate's final project. The gentleman we were meeting was an older guy who has a daughter around my age, a very interesting and engaging personality and a history full of adventure, so he was ideal for the project.
We'd been speaking with the man for almost an hour when another gentleman, also older - maybe 60? - came and sat by himself at the table next to us. I noticed him, but didn't really pay too much attention. The stranger seemed to be paying a lot of attention to our private conversation, and was staring at me in particular, but I ignored him and focused on our interview subject.
When conversation paused for a moment, the stranger threw a napkin down onto our table, looked at me and asked, "Are you on TV?"
Oh my God, I almost died. I immediately turned bright red and started to sweat. I nodded, eyeing my classmate for affirmation that this was, indeed happening. My classmate's face was lit up with delight - he obviously couldn't wait to see how this played out.
Apparently oblivious to my discomfort, the stranger shoved the napkin and a pen at me and asked for my autograph.
Now, I'm about as uncool and unimportant as a human being can possibly be. I'm just lucky enough to have an awesome weekend job that lets me play with a camera. But because I was on the spot and my parents have taught me to be polite, I signed the damn napkin, filled with shame and horror.
The stranger snapped it up, grinning, and asked me where I was from.
I replied "Estevan," and for the first time, really looked at the guy. Like really looked at him. I decided he seemed familiar, but I couldn't figure out where. I wondered if he was maybe from Estevan, but my brain was working at one-quarter its normal speed so I wasn't able to connect the dots.
The stranger continued to make small talk, and asked about my parents. And then my grandparents, making references to nicknames I'd never heard. Tarzan and Jane? What was he talking about?
He then grinned and pointed to something over my shoulder, and asked if I knew the people sitting at a different table.
I did. It was my Grandma Beth's sister, Lois, and a couple of members of her family. And this man, who'd embarrassed me so terribly, was a distant relative I'd met a few times, but definitely hadn't been expecting to see that Sunday in Tim Hortons.
Everyone laughed, me included. It was relieving. Also terrible. I'm actually blushing thinking about it.
Of course, the pre-interview professionalism was essentially ruined. Our interview subject seemed to decide I was an idiot girl who didn't even know her own family members. But whatever. I wasn't involved in that project, just the introduction. And maybe I am a bit of an idiot for letting myself be ambushed like that.
Tonaya Marr's car was hit this week. This is the second time a truck with an exposed hitch backed into her car overnight. If you are driving around with an exposed hitch, Tonaya hopes you consider the fates of poor students who (whose parents) will be footing the bill of your carelessness. Or just leave a note. If you hit Tonaya's car, please e-mail her at tonaya.marr@gmail.com or send her a tweet @TonayaMarr.
