Years of abuse to my knees and ankles while an athlete in high school and college has created eons of hilarious stories for me. There are very few days in my life since I left college that I HAVEN’T turned my ankle or wrenched my knee. It’s normal for me to fall at least once a day. Not that I need to add this as a sales tactic to all the latest “sales help” books, but it seriously works! Turn your ankle, get some empathy, build some rapport, and laugh hysterically at yourself and then your customers buy a home from someone who has provided a one of kind experience. Here is the first of many of these one of a kind stories.

It was a bright Texas day in May and I was feeling great about myself. I had a new white pinstripe suit on with some new platform black heels. (If I could interject ominous, impending doom music here, I would. Heels = big trouble.) I was meeting my customers and our construction manager on site at their home. This particular home was built at the top of a small hill but with a very steep slope. I made it up the hill fine, had a great meeting with my customers. They left and I stayed to speak with the construction manager for awhile and then I left to go back to the office. As I walked out of the house, looking fabulous in my pinstripe suite, holding my clipboard, maneuvering through the debris on the site to get to my car, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I’m being extra careful because it is a very steep hill with nothing but dirt and rocks on the way down. I make the mistake of looking at my notes on my clipboard as I walk and my heel catches a rock and I turn my ankle. Here’s the slow motion play by play:

My ankle completely turns and my foot comes unhinged from my leg and makes a sound like a wet two by four breaking in two.

I scream out in pain and launch myself forward and down the hill.

I hit the ground chest and face first which knocks the breath out of me.

I roll up in a ball because my ankle is radiating pain the likes that I’ve never felt.

Being that I am now in a ball, I have become more aerodynamic and begin to roll down the hill in the dirt and the rocks in my beautiful new white pinstripe suit.

Since the hill is about a forty degree angle, I finally come to a stop after three and half rolls down the hill.

Grabbing my ankle, I get a chance to really assess my situation and feel the horrible pain from my throbbing foot.

I begin to cry and I’m completely covered in dirt from my triple lutz roll down the hill; so my tears have created mud streams down my face.
Trying to get up, I put a little weight on my foot, hit the ground again and just wail and cry in the fetal position.

Papers are flying everywhere, I’m covered in dirt with mud streams running down my face and I’m lying on the ground propping my self up with one elbow wailing in pain.

Two homeowners drive right by me and honk and wave really big as if this is a normal everyday occurrence. “There’s that crazy Myka, she’s at it again. Honk honey!”

My construction manager runs out and asks what happened. I can’t talk because of the pain.

He tried to help me up. He weighs 100 pounds. I weigh…uh… more. He pulls me up, we BOTH fall down again.

So I crawled to my car and get in and cry a cry of embarrassment for another 5 minutes and vow to call Jenny Craig.

I drive using my left foot (good foot) on the pedals down to the office, hobble into my office chair and my sales partners begin buzzing around getting ice packs, snacks, water, cigarettes. You know, everything you’d need to survive an ankle turn.

My sales manager gets wind of the fact that I’ve been injured on the job. He’s a great manager but since I could probably sue the company, he’s not very friendly today.

I tell him what happens, he looks at my ankle and says, “You’ve got 2 minutes to figure out if you want to go to the hospital or not.” And then he walks off and starts to talk on his cell phone.

I said, “I think I’ll be fine but look how swollen it is!” He comes back over, looks at the swollen, purple and green ankle, looks at my good ankle and says, “I can’t tell the difference” and walks off. This was an obvious jab at my size. He was about 95 pounds himself. This was the same manager who told the entire sales team during a sales meeting that our goal for the next week was to spend 10 minutes on a treadmill per day that we were all getting fat. He’s sweet.

Long story short, I didn’t sue the company, my ankle was only turned and I recovered, we hired a larger construction manager for my subdivision, the cleaner got my dirt stains out of my beautiful new pinstripe suit and I went on a diet.