You know what really sucks? Hurting yourself. You know what also really sucks? Hurting yourself on the job. I’ve always loved to work; I currently have three jobs. I work at a tutoring agency with Cleveland State, as a Resident Assistant also with Cleveland State, and in a retail establishment owned by a family friend. Add onto this a full course load and student teaching for my major, and I’ve got absolutely no social life. It’s a lot of hard work, stress, and responsibility, but I also wouldn’t have it any other way.

As I’m sure anyone can imagine, there are a few downsides to spreading myself too thin. Working high demand jobs, it becomes easy to get swept up in the shuffle of the workplace. The pressures and expectations may encourage anyone to stop taking time for themselves. Sometimes, I even feel myself begin to succumb to the way of the time card. Soon, my thoughts begin to wander only to the next thing I must complete on my massive to-do list. Then, I dare to wonder why things start to go wrong.

I began the morning around 7. The sun was shining faintly through a hazy curtain of clouds. I brewed some 8 o’clock coffee, and leisurely wandered downstairs to clock in. Everyone on the team received their individual assignments, and I followed the herd outside. My task included directing traffic. Easy enough, am I right?

So, I went outside to see what’s up. Not many people were arriving yet, and the few who were slowly meandered around the lobby. I strolled over to my fellow, busy-bee co-workers to take inventory of the tasks at hand. As I was walking, the curb emerged from nowhere, and my ankle bent like a Twizzler in a toddler’s grasp. My hands rushed to catch my body, which had begun to grow heavier by the minute. Luckily, I managed to catch myself from falling too badly. My coworkers rushed to my side asking me if I’m alright. I laughed it off, and got to my feet, commenting on my clumsiness. Meanwhile, the curb seemed to shrink back into the pavement, the obstacle forgotten.

Another hour or so ran by smoothly enough. There were a few irate parents and some cranky kids, but otherwise everything was pretty easy to manage. I was even getting pretty good at delivering the parking spiel. Then, a car sped into the lot, and I begun to flag them down to a spot near the back of the parking area. I shuffled, backpedaling to get off the lot, when I felt myself falling backwards. The curb emerged again with a vengeance, taking control of my balance. The world whirled sideways as my ankle snapped again, and a sharp pain began to pulse.

Next thing I knew, I was stretched out on the pavement, vision blurred, throbbing pain, and ankle down. I tried to stagger to my feet, but my ankle couldn’t hold the weight of my embarrassment. Tears stung my eyes as I wobbled to the door on my one good foot. I was absolutely livid.

Two words: Workers Compensation. I was now a liability. People will act weird around me. They will treat me one of two ways: as a fragile thing or as an inconvenient problem. Whenever I hurt myself, I always feel as though people won’t believe that I’m actually injured. I convince myself that they think I’m faking it. Then, I actually try to convince myself that I’m actually faking it as well. My biggest fear in the workplace has been and always will be that I would become an inconvenience to my co-workers.

Sure enough, some people started to shoot me disapproving glances as I sat in the main office, looking absolutely and completely unhelpful. My heart began to deflate and my hands started to sweat. Someone from corporate paced in, and I automatically began to apologize. She held up her hand, smiled at me, and told me that it wasn’t my fault. She also convinced me that apologizing was completely unnecessary.

During the course of our conversation, she explained that I wasn’t in trouble and that I would be taken care of. Gradually, my hands stopped fiddling and my pulse returned to normal. I found myself smiling back as the representative shook my hand and showed me the ice.

I left her office, sporting a nice athletic ankle wrap. Loud clicking sounded across the hall as a co-worker walked toward me. I could feel my gaze lowering to the floor, my thumbs rubbing the palms of my hands. The footsteps slowed and they stop right in front of me. Their gaze shifts to my ankle, concern glistening in their eyes. I could feel the embarrassment lifting, and I let out a sigh. Maybe, it’s okay after all.