11/13/09- What a day! Every Monday and Friday I get to go to lunch with my boss. We start off the week by discussing our schedules and special projects. Friday we do an after action review on how our week went. Today we went to lunch and ate Mexican food. It was my choice and wasn't the best choice for so many reasons. First, I find out as we're leaving no less, he doesn't really even like Mexican food that much. Secondly, I ordered the messiest thing I could possibly order. Do you know how hard it is to try to eat a quesadilla with a fork? It is seriously hard to be professional, eat salsa, and eat a Quesadilla with a fork. Humbling to say the least. It was like I was trying to eat soup with a fork and no thumbs. Any way I survive and vow to never pick El Rancho as our weekly debrief spot again. As we get into his truck with my teeth filled with cilantro and pepper I asked for permission to use the passenger side vanity mirror. He too quickly approved my request. I could soon see why. My mouth looked like a muddy gravel road. It was horrible. I made a joke and he chuckled. It helps that my boss it part of our inner circle, "work family" if you will. I asked if he had a tooth pick by chance. He said, “Actually I carry some special tooth picks with me. They’re right in here (taps on console).” Because I’m socially retarded and can’t pick up on social cue’s the word “special” sends up no red flag. I think what any reasonable person with "Mexican gravel" smeared in her teeth would think after seeing “tap, tap, tap” on the console... that was an invitation to help myself. Before he can say, get your hands out of my personal space, I'm digging through his console for a tooth pick. I find them quickly. They're in a salt shaker type dispenser so only one comes out at a time. Just like him to be totally structured and organized. I have a moment of secret pleasure to know that since only one tooth pick comes out at a time they haven't all been contaminated by every hand that reaches in for one. I shake out my tooth pick and begin to clean my teeth.  He's quiet. Totally silent. I actually checked to see if he was breathing a couple of times. When I'm done I wrap the tooth pick up and put it in a "car trash" bag. He finally speaks. "You know those tooth picks haven't been touched since 2007." OMG. I know what's coming. My eyes start welling up. I know I'm going to get fired. I want to die. See what I know that you don't know is his Daddy died in 2007 and left him that truck! Let's all say it together.... "Oh my GOD!!!" I know. I am balling now, apologizing all over my freaking self. I just used a tooth pick from a tooth pick holder that his deceased Daddy left him! This is not good for anyone... (that's free advice by the way) especially when you've only been at your new job for 3 weeks. I can't possibly explain how sorry I feel. He's doesn't let me babble on too long before he saves me. He clearly states that it was perfectly fine. If he didn't want me to use it he would have stopped me. Yeah, like that helped. I start in again with round 2, begging for forgiveness. At this point I wish he would fire me. He says, "Listen Heather. Daddy would have shared a tooth pick with you." I said thank you so much and apologized again. He finished by saying, "he would have shared with you but he may want to talk to you about those greasy quesadilla finger prints on his tooth pick holder." He thought it was funny. I however could NOT get out of that truck fast enough.