It's all smiles and waves until somebody gets plantar faciitis |
This brings my to my scenario of "The ol' trick knee." I was running with a friend the other day, who knows I have acquired a trick knee. (I don't really have a trick knee. I am pretty sure I have IT band syndrome, but 'trick knee' just has a better ring to it. Eric hates it when I refer to it as my trick knee because he says it makes me sound like I'm 90 years old. Rude. You're 90 years old, Eric.)
Anyhow, this particular friend is probably one of the least sympathetic people I know- you know who you are, and you can't deny it. I should say, he has no sympathy for injuries, whether real or imagined, that haven't plagued you for more than a few months. Also, as an aside, he doesn't really believe in physical therapy... especially if you are prone to imaginary diseases and/or fake tumors, which I am-obvi. My point is, we were running the other day and he noticed I was limping a little (the old trick knee just needs to warm up) and told me, "You know, you probably won't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you should see a therapist."
Anyhow, this particular friend is probably one of the least sympathetic people I know- you know who you are, and you can't deny it. I should say, he has no sympathy for injuries, whether real or imagined, that haven't plagued you for more than a few months. Also, as an aside, he doesn't really believe in physical therapy... especially if you are prone to imaginary diseases and/or fake tumors, which I am-obvi. My point is, we were running the other day and he noticed I was limping a little (the old trick knee just needs to warm up) and told me, "You know, you probably won't believe I'm saying this, but maybe you should see a therapist."
Maybe YOU should see a therapist- Rude. |
Step one: Find something that is mostly false with a grain of truth and exaggerate. (Trust me, I do it all the time. My whole blog/life is based on this formula.)
Me: Oh the old trick knee is acting up. *limp*
(The limp was real. Again, I do not seriously have a trick knee- I don't even know what that means.)
Step two: Wait for something miraculous to happen.
In this case, the miracle was getting a recommendation for physical therapy from a person with sympathy for neither pain nor PT. It's not like I really got anything out of it, though, particularly because I didn't have a recording device to prove he'd actually said this.
This technique is more functional if, for instance, you get home and you are too tired to make dinner. (I was even too tired for yoga the other night, and I love Tuesday night yoga.)
Me: I am soooooooooo tired. I can't make dinner. There probably won't be dinner tonight.
(I was really tired- have you been to bone tumor clinic? BLERG. I could have made dinner, though. I just didn't want to.)
Wait for it.
Voila! Eric made dinner, and it included all of my favorite things. Wine and sandwiches.
I feel like I need to add here, that the miracle of Eric making dinner isn't because he sucks. It's because I am a control freak and like to cook dinner every night. It's an "I - only - want - what - I - want - when - I - want - it" kind of thing. Plus, I like cooking- except for when I don't.
Whether you're looking for free medical advice or a dinner that magically appears on your plate after a long day, the ol' trick knee scenario can work for you too. Take a fragment of reality, exaggerate, and wait for the magic to happen. Aaaaand that's how you work smarter, not harder. You're welcome... again. I really give you guys a lot of free advice.
Here I am frying pickles- which isn't really dinner. Also, this smile is fake. |
Whether you're looking for free medical advice or a dinner that magically appears on your plate after a long day, the ol' trick knee scenario can work for you too. Take a fragment of reality, exaggerate, and wait for the magic to happen. Aaaaand that's how you work smarter, not harder. You're welcome... again. I really give you guys a lot of free advice.
No comments:
Post a Comment