I’m trying to get back into the habit of writing. I probably mentioned that previously, but hey, I’m mentioning it again because why not. To get back into that habit, I’m sourcing prompts – either from WordPress or some other source — which saves the two of us (or the ten of us, if we count all my readers) from me sharing yet another post about fundraising or some random work or political thing that I absolutely shouldn’t write about. Those stories are now reserved for my counselor so I can merrily avoid creating any unintentional career‑limiting opportunities. We’ll file that under “Maturity” — go me! However, if you do ever bump into her, be sure to thank her for taking that hit for the team.

Anyway, with that in mind, I flipped through a few suggested options earlier and landed on this one:

Describe a recent moment of unintentional honesty.

To get there, I need to blow out some of the ol’ memory cobwebs. Also, keep in mind I’ve changed over the years – I’ve grown out of sharing unintentionally to someone who a friend described as sharing “harsh truths.” Ummm… woot? (Also, for the record, he did have those “harsh” truths coming, and he also should have thanked me for my insightful commentary. Just saying.)

So, cobwebs blown…

There was a time I did desktop support in a small office where I was the only tech support person on site. Some background: I was learning on the job. Also, fun fact, just because you like computers and have a small knack doesn’t necessarily mean you should dive in with your wealth of inexperience and take over an office, but hey, hubris convinced me to show my fanny, and it also protected me from realizing there was a strong breeze. Agreeing to be the only tech person was such a bad idea for so many reasons, but I committed. I jumped in with both dumb feet, no helmet or knee pads, and made some pretty big messes along the way, but I also learned a lot. (Quick aside: I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t tried that first. So apologies to everyone I “served,” and a big fat huge “thanks” to the folks who gave me the opportunity.)

And that brings me to the actual story… the raison d’être. – the “why am I still reading” part of the story.

One afternoon, I was sitting amid the carnage of several cracked desktop towers, coils of Cat5 cable, RJ45 ends, and other “I’m a tech girl” detritus when my office phone rang. Mind you, there was no caller ID. I had no idea who was on the other end, and with that in play, I picked up the receiver and snarled irritatedly, “What do YOU want?” like you do in a professional environment.

Then my brain kicked in hard. I started blinking rapidly, and a wave of nausea slammed into my soul as my brain screamed, “Holy $#!K, what did you actually just say out loud with your face? OMG! You don’t know who this is. Are you kidding me right now? Great job, little idiot.” I started spluttering out apologies. “Hi, umm… this is Beth… I’m so sorry… I, uh… Hi… how can I help?”

On the other end was one of my friends, who immediately burst out laughing. “Beth, don’t speak the thought bubble!”

Hearing her voice allowed all of the tension to immediately fell away and I began laughing and continuing with the apology tour.

These days, I do my best to skim those thought bubbles before deciding whether to read them aloud. That extra beat can mean the difference between going full cringe (complete with a full‑blown apology parade featuring ticker tape and balloons) and delivering an intentional (well-deserved?) harsh truth.

And while a thought bubble does occasionally escape and run rampant like a baby Kaiju taking its first stomp through a small village, it happens less often now and with less collateral damage.

Hey, progress, not perfection. I’m a work in progress. Go me!