Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

Or, A Series of Misfortunate Events

Yesterday I was inadvertently insulted at the convenience store where I buy my coffee on the way to work. I was chatting with a couple of people, and the woman noticed that I was wearing the same skirt as the cashier. She interrupted what I was saying to make that observation. The gentleman turned to look. Then, as though to save herself from her inadvertent rudeness, she added, "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

It was a minor and very forgivable offense. But the phrase "Not that there's anything wrong with that" stuck to the underbelly of my mind, like a barnacle. We go really easy on ourselves, don't we?

The first e-mail I opened at the office was labled "Grave mistake in article...." It pointed out a factual error ("grave" is a matter of opinion), which originated with the author but passed through several readings by several editors, including myself. I notified the publicist who submitted the article and asked for a word or two from the author that we could publish in our correction.

To his credit, the publicist was eager to remedy the situation. But he added that, as a "former Pulitzer Prize winning editor," he demands accuracy in all that he does, but we shouldn't beat ourselves up so much over this because, hey, editing is a complex process. (First of all, what is a "former" Pulitzer Prize winner? Did they take the prize back?)

This again clung to the bottom of my brain. Maybe not wanting to beat oneself up over factual errors is how one decides to remove oneself from the Pulitzer Prize categories and switch over to publicity:

"We made a mistake ... not that there's anything wrong with that."

Now I turn back to the unfortunate events that left our conference staff without a reporter and photographer for the opening keynote session last weekend. I know travel was a bear in Chicago on Friday, and I know the reason I sent myself to the conference was to be a backup resource. So I did the work that the others were supposed to do. The next day we had our photographer, but not the reporter. There were more unfortunate events going on, but mostly they were his responsibility.

The reckoning came yesterday when I asked him to explain himself and told him what the consequences of his mistakes would be. The phrase "Not that there's anything wrong with that" was on the other side of some parallel universe, not here. But the incident is now over, and the reporter (I hope) has learned a valuable lesson.

Mistakes should have consequences. There IS something wrong with that. But there is also a time for forgiveness and moving on. I don't believe in making people feel bad for their mistakes - just in making them remedy them. They should actually care about it.

On a lighter note, here's how I saved civilization on Monday... (HAHA!)

I was sitting at my gate at O'Hare on the end of a row of seats, and some guy set his carryon luggage right next to me. Nice looking business type. We didn't make eye contact, but he left quickly with a smug look on his face, strutted across the way to the Starbucks opposite us, and got in a long line. He kept looking left and right, left and right, up and down the concourse as he stood in line.

Okay, the smug look might have been, "This old lady looks sweet and innocent enough, she won't steal my stuff." MY interpretation of the smug look at that point became, "Die, damn infidel! Die a bloody shredded body parts MESS! Bwah-ha-ha-ha!"

The thing is, I never saw the guy come back out of Starbucks. I went to the ladies room (lugging all of MY carryon crap, by the way), and when I came back, his stuff was still there, unattended. This is roughly now 20 minutes since he dropped it off beside me.

Now I'm hearing all the announcements about not leaving your stuff unattended, and telling you to report any unattended bags. And I start getting nervous.

Do I keep my mouth shut because it's all probably perfectly innocent? I had no idea what happens when people report suspicious packages in airports. Do they sound alarms? Bring in bomb-sniffing dogs? Clear out the terminal, causing thousands of people problems?

At 30 minutes into the abandoned luggage debacle, I finally reported it to the airline worker at the gate. She quietly got on the phone, and an employee quietly came and fetched the luggage away. No panic and (more to the point) no bloody shredded body parts.

So now I'm wondering if the bad guys all have me on their surveillance cameras as the terrorist-thwarter, and now they're going to come get ME!! (Yes, I know I watch too much 24.)

It was at least another 15 minutes before the smug looking man came back to look for his luggage. He asked up at the desk about his bags and pointed to where he'd left them. The airline worker then made a quiet call, and his bags were quietly returned to him. I have no idea whether the smug suitcase abandoner got a stern lecture for abandoning his bags and causing (at least for one moron) a panic.

I know I did the right thing, and I feel no guilt about inconveniencing a smug person who thinks it's okay to ignore the rules.

Moral of the story: If someone looks honorable enough NOT to steal your stuff, they're probably also honorable enough NOT to let the airport blow up.

Love, hosaa
A little on the self-righteous side, I guess. And there probably IS a little bit of something wrong with that. :)