I usually travel a lot for my job. Between airports, suitcases, delayed flights, hotel rooms and rental cars the last thing I want to worry about is ironing my shirts for the next-day meetings. Some months ago, I had to travel out of town for one of the companies’ events, where I was required to give yet ANOTHER presentation. The night before the event I walked into my hotel room after a very delayed and very, very long flight. I was exhausted. I dragged myself across the room and I just kicked off my shoes, tossed my watch on the bed, cranked up the AC and seriously contemplated unpacking my clothes. With my eyes half closed already, I did a mental checklist for everything that had to be ready for the next day. I remembered to charge the little remote to change the presentation slides, I remembered to set the alarm with sound AND vibration this time. I remembered to schedule an Uber for the next day (taxis were nowhere to be seen my whole ride over). “Tomorrow is going to go great!” I told myself several times, before sinking into the white fluffy bedding and drifting into a deep sleep that knocked me out completely.
I woke up the next morning feeling like a million bucks and ordered some room service. I had to be in the lobby in an hour and a half to catch my Uber, so I felt pretty confident about my time. While my bell pepper omelet was getting prepared, I decided to check the USB drive containing my presentation, check my email for any updates, and go through my notes. I had an amazing breakfast and then an even more amazing shower. However, as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, still dripping, panic set in. I hadn’t unpacked my bag. I’d thought of it, but hadn’t gotten around to doing it. After opening my suitcase, my clothes were of course completely wrinkled beyond recognition. How could this be? How could I have forgotten this crucial detail? I didn’t think about ironing my shirt and pants the night before and, even if I had, I was way too exhausted to do it. “Stay calm” I thought to myself, as I picked up the phone to call the lobby and get an iron sent up to my room. The laundry office was still closed, but they were kind enough to send me a compact iron, 1969 model. In the agonizing minutes while I waited to have it sent up to my room, I watched anxiously as the seconds melted into minutes.
Finally having done a supremely mediocre job on my pants and shirt and with just enough time to get to my presentation using a traffic accident as an excuse, I got there and did an amazing job. Nonetheless, I have a new nickname I’m not very fond of: Wrinkles. I had to laugh because the CEO gave it to me, so ha-ha. On my way out, sweaty and exhausted but proud of myself, the CEO shoots out “Hey Wrinkles”, he chuckled, “next time just carry a bottle of deCrease. Mandy, get him a spare one from my office on his way out”.
Wrinkles, ladies and gentlemen, has learned his lesson.