Even if we hadn't needed to use the ATM she was using, we would have noticed her. She wasn't a young twenty-something, but she looked good in her work-out shorts and sports bra. The hazards were blinking on her luxury SUV so she could park illegally in the red zone. As she turned to leave, we noted the gizmo around her arm that either was taking her heart rate or counting her steps. She smiled at us as she turned like a dancer, with just a hint of superiority, but still friendly. (Hey, it's L.A.) We both said later that we would've remarked, "good for her" in a moment or two. Then she reappeared.
"Do either of you have a cell phone I could use?" Her self-satisfied smile was gone. "I locked my keys in the car."
We had to laugh, and she let herself laugh, too. And we apologized honestly, but we'd just run out of the office to grab something to eat. Neither of us had brought our phones, so she turned to ask someone else for help.
I can pretty much guarantee that anytime I'm feeling like, "I look good," or "I totally got this," I will stumble. And I mean that literally. I trip on sidewalks, carpet, or smooth marble. Oh sure, sometimes I can blame it on a fallen branch I didn't see, but usually, it's all me. Whether or not someone's with me, I laugh.
And hey, if someone's laughing at me, well, I'm glad I could brighten someone's day!