Fun-Sized

I use distilled water often. For some reason the local groceries keep that water in troughs that magically push a new bottle into place when the one at the front of the line is purchased.

It's just hard for me to start that whole ideal situation, because the tips of my fingers just barely touch the bottom of the shelf, even when I stand on tiptoe. Usually I find assistance by climbing up the racks and flailing around over my head with one hand while clinging like a koala to the shelves.

It's rather remarkable how that tends to bring the store staff who, previously not to be found, appear like magic to hand down the heavy bottles to me.

Recently, I needed something placed on top of the cabinet at work, so I asked someone for help, explaining that I needed someone taller than me to do it. He laughed and said that narrowed it down to approximately everyone else in the building.

Point taken.

I am a short woman from a line of short women. My mama was short. My grandmas were short. My aunts were short.

Cousins? Also short. I’m kind of used to it, but there are times that I’d like it to be different.

Like, when I am trying to see if something in the microwave at home, which is over the stove, is cooked. I cannot see the actual tray without a step stool. Anything thinner than an inch is dead to me in there.

In fact, you could hide money up there and I would never know it.

I’d like to have long legs that go on forever, like in the movies. The kind that looked wicked cool in sky-high heels. You just know she doesn’t need those heels to keep her slacks from dragging behind her. (Just sayin’)

I’d like to have the visor block the light as I drive in the morning and evening. So I can drive without holding my hand at right angles to my face, looking through my fingers like Madonna vogueing in front of the sun. And tilting my head, chin up, just so.

It’s not always fun to be fun-sized.

It’s not just my height that seems small, though. Sometimes my daily life has felt lacking in stature.

There were times when I was in corporate retail management that I bristled at being described as ‘keeping the lights on operations’. When I heard that it seemed trivializing to what the operations team did.

As if I lacked strategy because I exceled at tactics.

It's simply that the nitty-gritty tactics are and always have been my strengths. And, like my height, I need to be at peace with that.

Strategy is good, it’s essential. A clear view of where we are going and the plans to get there must be in place or there will be no steady and purposeful growth or progress.

But plans without the steps to achieve them are just dreams. You need to know what comes first. And how that step impacts the others that are already in progress. And how the success or failure of an action may lead to new decisions further into the process. And where everything intersects.

The consequences. Taking the long view.

And that’s where being fun-sized can be a help.

When you are looking at the details, the place where the rubber meets the road, maybe it helps keep me focused. Less distracted. I know that I can pick up details and bring them to light.

It’s both one of my skills and the thing that can irritate others around me. Irritating or not: I’ll keep on doing it.

The devil may be in the details, but so am I.

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What are your strengths? Do they endear you to people or irritate them? Do you hide the Special Dark mini bars when you open a package? Have you ever seen Looking for Mr Goodbar (it doesn't have anything to do with the chocolate bar: spoiler alert). Was Annie Hall the peak Diane Keaton era?

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