TOAST

I must be out of my mind right now, I can't believe I am actually going to tell this story.


In writing.


On the internet no less.


But it's just too good not to share. So everyone come gather around, it's story time!


Let me give you a little background about my job. As you know, I'm an accountant for a gold mine (yes gold mines still exist and no I don't get free gold). Our office is downtown in an high rise building with 23 floors (this is relevant I promise) and I work on the 18th floor.


When I first started my job, I was the youngest accountant in the office. Actually, I was the youngest employee in the region. I was 23, straight out of college, you know, a rookie.


Well after working there for over a year I was finally coming into my own. You know, making a name for myself and feeling comfortable being the youngest chick in an office where the average employee is male, and about 5 billion years old.


So one day I was in the break room making my breakfast which consisted of toast and well, just toast. I put my toast in the toaster at which point I realize that I had to go potty. Bad. The bathroom is right outside the break room so I made a mad dash to "take care of bidness".


Aw, relief.


It wasn't until I was walking back to the break room that I smelled it.


Burnt toast.


"Dammit!" I think, "Now what am I gonna eat?"


As it turns out, that would be the least of my problems. I open the break room door and am greeted with a nice big puff of smoke.


Oops.


I run to the toaster and throw what was left of my toast in the trash and frantically start waving my hands trying to dissipate the smoke, but my attempts were useless. Yes, if you haven't guessed by now, the fire alarm went off.


Crap.


Everyone starts coming out of their offices and heading to the stairs.


"It's okay!" I try to tell them, "It was just my toast!" But nobody was listening, the alarm overpowered my voice. I didn't quite know what else to do so I just followed everyone to the stairwell and walked the 18 flights of stairs down to the main level and to the small patch of grass outside.


Guess what was waiting for us outside?


The fire trucks. Not just one, but three.


THREE. FIRE. TRUCKS.


And no, I didn't get to stand there and stare at the hot firemen, they were already in the building. If I was really thinking, I would have stayed in the building so I could be carried out in one of the Fireman's arms. Like Mitchell did on Modern family.


Had I known I would be seeing firemen, I would have dressed up a bit like Claire!



(LOVE THAT SHOW!)


But com'on, me? Think? How did I get in this situation in the first place? Yeah, I don't think.


I sat there on the grass with everyone else as the whole entire building was evacuated.


All 23 floors.


Finally we get the signal that we can go back in and they announce that someone burnt toast on the 18th floor. Oh sure, they listen to the fireman when they say it but when I'm screaming it, nobody listens.


Ugh.


So everyone heads back into the building, luckily taking the elevators this time. Slowly the news that I was the idiot who burnt the toast travels around the office and soon I was the topic of conversation for the rest of the day. The pun of jokes for the rest of the year.


The next morning when I showed up to work, I found something on my name tag on the wall outside my door. Written on a sticky note was my new nickname, the name I would be referred to by everyone in the halls, and anyone who came to visit my office:

TOAST