On the second to last day of work for Charlie, our designer, we had an on the job injury. One of our workers hit herself in the head with a sundial (I wish this was the strangest injury I've had to report, on the upside there's no way anyone would make that up). She was ok and then she wasn't ok and then we went to the emergency room. Charlie came with me because a. the girl couldn't walk and b. I needed moral support. After the emergency room drama, (ps to hospital registrars everywhere...unconscious people can't give their social security numbers...deal with it) we decided we really needed cake. So we went to the one lunch place that has really good cake.
We parked in a general lot and Charlie says "Maybe we should park behind the restaurant incase the boss' wife sees us" and I said "We have a right to eat lunch, don't worry about it". We were seated in the restaurant and after a ten minute discussion about how they didn't have a single cake that day, not even a sliver, Charlie went off to the bathrooms. I sat in my booth, looking out the window and eavesdropping on my fellow diners. The woman in the booth in front of us was talking about a man with the same name as my boss. And you know, she has the same shirt on that the boss' wife had on this morning...and the same hair...and OH SHIT THAT IS THE BOSS' WIFE.
This is where my flight or fight response kicked in. I ran as stealthily as I could to the back where Charlie was. It was just like in a movie where the character tries to escape and hits the dish boy and 2000 china plates crash to the floor except that part didn't happen at all. We hid in the bathroom until our waitress walked by and gave her ten bucks to pack our food to go and show us the back door. It was one of those moments that causes you to evaluate your life because when hiding in the bathroom is the best case scenario you have a serious problem.