The Salad and The Pantyhose

I hate pantyhose! I hate salad! Ever since I was little, I never understood having to put your legs into see-through sleeves or eating what looked like tree leaves. What are you trying to hide if they’re transparent? Probably whatever the salad is meant to help with, I imagine. Whenever I could and wherever I could, I did everything I could not to wear “the hose” or est salad.

The first part of my story begins in an office tower. I had been lucky enough to get a job at a large corporation when I was in my twenties. I still remember the interview that started it all.

I arrived right on time and headed to the reception area of a large, reflective building. Although modern on the outside, the inside was a little bit of a time warp. A little bit dated but warm and relaxing while you waited. A lovely English lady appeared to escort me to the 23rd floor to a long, lean room with a massive conference table right in the center. The view at the end of the table opened up to two very large windows. You could see from one end of the city centre to the other. A somewhat calming image before the bosses arrived.

Two older gentlemen entered the room, one shorter than the other. By older I would assume they were in there late 40’s. This was old to me back then. But they both arrived in suits, both having been part of corporate life for their entire career. Once they seated themselves and started the interview, we had a good conversation. It went so well that they asked me to accompany them for lunch downstairs. This office tower had one of the many perks of office life, a couple of restaurants in the lobby. This was an unexpected set of circumstances and I was not prepared. But I would never say no and we all headed back to the elevator. Once the double doors closed, my heart-rate quadrupled. What do you say? What don’t I say? There was no manual for this part.

Once we made it to the restaurant, we were seated at a round table. For anyone looking around, this would have been an odd sight. But I made a effort to smile or laugh at everything I could. Making sure that I did not overdue it, I order a salad and a water. How could this go wrong?

When my salad arrived, I waited for the suits to start first. They ordered some meat things and there was the added decoration of a vegetable. We ate, we smiled and told appropriate stories. As I stabbed the lettuce and raised it to my mouth, it chose to run and fell right into my cleavage. The world paused. I lifted my eyelids to see if anyone had noticed. In that brief second, the suits eyes were affixed to their meal and that gave me a moment to remove the leaf. Quickly and subtly, I pulled the green item and crammed it in my mouth. Success, in more than one way. I averted a huge embarrassment and got the job!

Years later, when I had been with company for over five years, I had to adhere to certain standards. One of them was hose. Certain circumstances meant I would have to wear them whether I liked it or not. But I did make it a more comfortable by wearing “hold ups”. For those unfamiliar with “hold ups”, they are hose that only reach the mid-thigh and have a rubber bit on the end to stick to your skin. This means that you did not have to do the dance with your hose when they move throughout the day. They stayed in place or so I thought.

A certain late evening I was still in the office. As the clock hit 7 PM, I decided to head home and packed my things to head to the elevator. There I ran into one of the company executives and we swapped pleasantries and a couple of the day’s happenings. As we entered the elevator, I felt a tingle on my thigh. One of the rubber ends of the hose had loosened, and like the salad, was going to make a run for it. I squeezed my knees together and told my hose they were not going anywhere, yet.

Once the elevator opened again, we said our goodbyes and headed in different directions. Once out of sight, I pulled the rubber up to tighten its hold and started to walk out the tower. Picking up speed, I wiggled my way to the end of the street. As I felt the rubber giving way on both legs, I spotted my boss again as he waved. I smiled and waved back and squeezed my knees tighter. As he drove away so did my hose, right down to my ankles. I grabbed them from my legs, one at a time, while I was walking hoping that no one noticed. Unfazed, I continued to my car where I know my face was now the colour of crimson. I never found out if anyone, let alone my boss, had seen the hose escape.

The moral of the story is that salad and hose is evil, stay away from them both.