Moment of truth

Let me be the first to say that I would be lost without men in my life. An intrepid statement I dare say, but not without merit. Allow me to elaborate. 

Yesterday was gracious enough to bestow upon me one of those defining moments in which I could see the truth in its simplistic purity – men are good and useful creatures. 

It was a day much like any other; bar for maybe a few tweaks. I was late for work; spent the morning messing around with scissors and paperclips; lunch hour was sacred as usual and included brain inactivity; captured the afternoon contemplating the benefits of a siesta in the corporate workplace. And then I left the office. It was when I reached my car that the horror struck – I had left my parking lights on the whole day. Brilliant.

When life dishes out a slice of humble pie, the best thing to do, I find, is to dig in. I mean really indulge. It’s your moment. Embrace it; wallow in its misery; laugh at yourself even. Loudly. Take this time to reflect on how stupid you feel and delight in the intensity of that sensation.

Then phone a guy. It took me a while to figure out who to phone as, naturally, one wouldn’t want to unnecessarily attract any further attention to one’s self-inflicted mortification. It is important to phone someone that will actually be available to help. Since I was only a few blocks away from the office, I phoned a colleague.

It could take several months for a colleague to get their filing in order, or respond to an email or submit their sick leave forms; but within mere minutes of the rescue call he was there, ready to save the day. With great tenacity and know-how he quickly established the status quo. What followed was profound and beautiful; like poetry in motion. 

He opened the bonnet of my car. This had a great effect on all the men in a 200-metre radius. The tilting of the bonnet to 75º was like the ignition of a magnetic field which sent signals out to men in the vicinity. They were piling out of buildings to come and inspect the situation; some stopped to offer advice; others started examining the car engine; someone recruited someone else with a jumper kit to pull in. Besides introducing themselves by profession and trade, no one had to say much; there was an agreed understanding of the job at hand and a joint effort at making things work. Everyone was very forgiving of my obvious mistake and was much more concerned, and felt obliged to educate me on the ins-and-outs of jumpers, batteries, engines and the like. 

In no time I was back on the road. (My advice to women, if ever you have car trouble, simply open car hood, stand back, and wait.) 

So yes, as a believer of give credit where credit is due, this is my public declaration that indeed men are a blessing; one that I wouldn’t want to live without. Thank God for the men in our lives. (And those in the vicinity.)