My Proudest Moment

Okay, so it is not really my proudest moment but it was a turning point in my war to get him to see me. We were driving to work. We drove to work together everyday. We had driven to work together everyday for years. He drove because he had to go further than me - 35 miles further. So it made sense for him to drive, drop me off, and then go on to work. We always left early enough for him to get to work on time.

That morning, as on about ninety-five percent of all our mornings, he forgot to drop me off and I would have to tell him to stop. Generally we only got a few hundred feet down the street where he would pull over and I would walk back to my office - through rain, snow, sleet, ice, hail - you get the picture. It was the principle of the thing - I was in the car - sat beside him everyday - yet he could never remember I was even there. So on this particular morning I decided if he did not stop, I was not going to say a word. So I sat quietly thumbing through a magazine, watching through the corner of my eye as we drove past my office. We drove past the computer repair store. We drove past Wendy's and the Dairy Queen. We drove past Krogers and the hospital. We drove past the gas station, McDonalds, the Storage buildings, and the drive-in movie screen. We were almost to the fork in the road where he would turn to drive out of town to his job. That's when he looked over and realized I was still there.

Believe it or not, he had the nerve to yell at me. To say "Why didn't you tell me to stop?" My reply, "Why should I have to tell you I was sitting here in this car with you? Why should I have to tell you to stop and drop me off at my job? Why do I have to tell you everyday that I am in this car with you so you can remember to take me to work? I had made up my mind that even if you drove all the way to your job and had to turn around and take me back, I was not going to tell you." He turned around and took me back. We didn't speak. In fact, we have not spoken about it since. I think he was late for work.

He never forgot again - it was, if not exactly my proudest moment, a triumph for visibility.