A Tale of Embarrassment

I had a professor in college who said he had calcium deposits in his brain. About once a year, usually in February, the calcium deposits started to move in such a manner that he would freeze, mid-sentence, for ten to fifteen seconds. Then he'd resume his sentence and have no idea he paused through ten to fifteen seconds of his life.

The opposite of that happened to me tonight. I had reverse calcium deposits I think. It was "final presentation" night in my marketing class. I knew the content of my team's presentation inside and out. I could have told you my material without any slides or notes. I was rehearsed. Everything was going to go just fine thank you very much.

There were six of us in our group. We started to present. Tom started. Good job Tom. Then Bill. Next was Larry. Who of course transitioned to Matt. He handed off to Greg. Next it was my turn! I nailed my slides. I gave a demo of a website we created. I explained in such good detail that even a child born with a Skittle brain (mmm...Skittle brain) would understand why they needed to buy Italian sausage.

Once I finished my last slide, trouble brewed. I'd rehearsed my material, but I never considered what I'd say when I needed to transition back to Tom for our wrap-up. One would think I'd say something like, "And here's Tom, with our wrap-up." But no. Oh no. Sweet Lord do I wish I said that. As the transition approached I got inexplicably nervous. Then a cell phone went off. The ring tone was the Mario song from the underground worlds. As soon as I heard duh duh duh duh duh duh, my brain broke. The reverse calcium deposits shifted around, and I could not shut up.

I finished the material on my slide without a problem, but then I said, "And here's Tom to present our geographic transition plans and our results and our, evidently I can't walk and talk at the same time, and our um, um, um." Only it was one million times worse than that. It's the first time I've ever been in front of group and felt that rattled. Normally my ego carries me through without a problem. I think the fact I started the presentation very tired combined with the distracting Mario theme song that made me think of last week in LA when my friends and I decided we were going to beat Mario 3 whilst drunk in order to save my brother-in-law's life (long story...suffice it to say Joe lived and all is well in Koopa Kingdom), doubly combined with the fact I couldn't think of a relatively easy transition on the fly caused me to look like an idiot.

After the presentation, I immediately made a joke about it. No one in the class seemed to notice my word vomit that much. My group said it was more hilarious than anything. But still, I don't expect that from myself, so I felt like an idiot.

There is probably a metaphor in here somewhere about making sure you are prepared for everything--including life's transitions--but I'm not going to make it. Sometimes a funny story is just a funny story, and it need not be bogged down with subtext.