Passing time, my mind on glass


Recently I found myself sitting in a room full of business professionals anticipating a presentation that, of course, would take my business to the next level even though the level at which I reside has me fearful of looking down. It is partly due to obligatory attendance mixed with sheer curiosity and my eternal need to learn as a decorative garnish. 

Originality was not on the agenda, motivational music trumpeting in an attempt to suggest the audience was attending a concert rather than a presentation touted to alter our lives. The chairs were cold and stiff to guarantee maximum discomfort. 

In keeping with a mind that never rests, I could quiet the music, block out the chatter of restless attendees, and ponder the sheer hilarity of it all. Large gatherings always provide ample fodder for the thinking types. 

The speaker was enthusiastic enough to require a third cup of coffee, so I made my way to the underwhelming beverage station. Begrudgingly I poured from a spout that was inevitably going to add to my dry cleaning bill. 

Equipped with the necessary tools to survive at least another hour, I trudged back to my cold throne of pain. The speaker had arrived at the rousing personal triumph portion that usually precludes the pulling of heartstrings, the status quo for concealing a sales pitch underneath the guise of enrichment. 

Realizing that I had counted my teeth with my tongue enough to polish the enamel, decorated my Styrofoam cup with equally spaced fingernail indentions, and silently recited most of the Canterbury Tales, I nudged myself back to reality. 

Have you ever noticed the undeniable changes in facial features when humans surrender to no longer feigning interest? The glazed eyes, long rest between blinking, and a resemblance to lifeless art prevail. 

Sitting here, we wait for the part that elevates our business and catapults our intellect while mentally scheduling appointments to see a chiropractor. A familiar phrase arrives that foreshadows closing comments. A presentation to a dominantly female audience would not be complete without the glass ceiling reference. 

A clear indicator of an elaborate eye roll, deep sigh, and the piercing pain of knowing I paid for this is imminent. Absurdity settles as comfortably as a rooster attack as I realize the glass ceiling phrase is as watered down as the mediocre coffee. 

“Is glass symbolic of some grandeur defined?” I ask myself while I make my sixth trip to the water fountain. Within moments, my mind is spiraling out of control, trying to understand the association of achievement to a non-crystalline, often transparent amorphous solid. 

From glass slippers to glass ceilings, it’s no wonder women occasionally enjoy bouts of justified insanity. Cinderella is idealized for wearing it, and we are to endeavor to shatter it. 

Lost in the thicket-laden maze of my thoughts, I missed it. The end is the life-changing, elevating business portion. Yet, here I am with a caffeine crash, impressive spinal compression, numerous questions regarding glass, and a solidified belief that a good book in a comfy chair is the better approach to education. 

Cherimie Crane Weatherford is the owner/founder of SugarBelle, a long-time real estate broker and a lover of the obscurities of southern culture. To contact her with praise and adoration, email CCWIslandNews@gmail.com. To complain, call your local representative. 

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