The Fishbowl Moment

Have you ever noticed how most children’s sections in libraries are like a fishbowl? Plenty of glass for you to see the rest of the library and for the rest of the library to see you. Well my most embarrassing moment happened in said fishbowl.

Let’s rewind just a little bit to earlier that morning so you can get the full picture.

Throughout high school and college I had the pleasure of working at a library. To this day it is still the best job I ever had. That morning as I got ready for work I happened to swing by the living room to let my mom know I would be leaving in fifteen minutes. Her beautiful smile made the morning sun seem a little bit brighter.

“Oh sweetheart, here this got mixed up with my clean clothing.”

“Thanks Mom!” I absentmindedly put it in my back jean pocket thinking I would have to deliver it to my room before I left for work.

The stroll to work that day was lovely. I never owned a car then so I walked the two blocks every day to work. A cool breeze tugged at my neatly done hair, and the soft spring sun warmed my face. A perfect day by all accounts. I arrived at the library shortly and began my morning routine of putting away books in the stacks.* I always left the children’s section for last because I loved reminiscing from when I was a kid and an avid reader. I had pretty much read every book in that section.

As I was walking around putting the returned books back I noticed my reflection in the glass. In my back pocket there seemed to be something bright and white sticking out. I frowned trying to think back on what I had put in there. I couldn’t remember having a piece of paper in my pocket, but I forget things quite often. Once I finished putting away my stack of books I was holding I reached back, and whipped out a soft cloth thing. It unfurled in the children’s section, the glass bowl, while I stared dumbfounded at the pair of clean underwear I was holding out in front of me for all to see. That’s right, my mom had given me a pair of underwear from that morning and I had completely forgot it was there. I couldn’t move, my shock wouldn’t allow it.

Let me tell you, when I got a hold of myself, I stuffed that thing back in there so fast I jammed two of my fingers in the process. I hardly registered the pain as I nervously glanced around, praying that no one saw my blunder as I felt the intense heat rise in my cheeks. Trying desperately to hid my embarrassment, I covered them with my cold hands hoping that it would neutralize the effect, but in truth it probably just drew more attention to myself. At this point my sudden urge to flee to the bathroom became too strong and I walked as fast as I could without running. My face peered back at me in the bathroom mirror, wide-eyed and dazed, not to mention flushed bright strawberry red. I hid in that bathroom until my thumping heart had a chance to calm itself down.

For the rest of that day I jumped whenever someone tried to get my attention thinking that this was the person who had seen me airing my underwear in the kids section of all places. It wasn’t until the walk home that I began to relax and even laugh at myself. By the time I reached my house I had woven it into a funny tale to tell my little sister who I was sure would laugh at the silliness of it with me. And I was right, we laughed until we were on the floor crying imagining my shocked face turning red with a bright pair of underwear in my hand displayed for the entire library to see.

A word of advice from the experienced: never put underwear in your back pocket – clean or otherwise.

*stacks are what librarians call the book shelves