I Am a Massive Goober

A few of my regular readers are my real-world friends, and those people already know that I am a massive goober. But for the rest of you, this may come as a complete shock. I, Lons, the confident and capable blogger before you, am an utterly hopeless, awkward, klutzy goober, there's just no two ways about it.

This occurs to me today because I was related a story of my goober-dom this afternoon. Ivan, the assistant manager at my employer, Laser Blazer, informed me that during my entire job interview a few weeks ago, the fly of my pants was down. According to him, he knew he wanted to work with me right then and there. Anyone with little to know insecurity, or even knowledge, about the location of their own package is apparently Laser Blazer material.

Bear in mind that this was the latest in a string of job interviews I have been going on for a bit over a year now. How often have I been walking into corporate offices, trying to convince people to turn over $30, $40, $50,000 a year to me, along with the future well-being of their companies, with a portion of my underwear peeking out the front of my trousers?

I have a worse anecdote. At my old company, our office moved from one area of Hollywood to another. My boss entrusted me one afternoon with the sole key for the new office, which I would have to bring to the building manager to have copies made. Not one minute, one minute, after leaving my office with the key, I proceed to drop it down the elevator shaft, losing it forever.

Now, I ask you, are these not the acts of a total goober? How can someone live on this planet for 26+ years and still have so little ability to move through it?