BYU Independent Study, this is Allison

The summer I worked fulltime for BYU Independent Study was, for the most part, a good, happy summer.  I loved my coworkers and my boss, and I was (dare I say) excellent at my job. The only downside was how terribly slow my particular position was during the summer—while everyone else had to fly through hundreds of emails a day, I was lucky if I got fifteen.

Once the rest of the department slowed down as well we started finding ways to make the eight hours pass more interestingly: MASH, Dusty Britches, bocce ball, daily trips to the Creamery, online quizzes, blog stalking, and an occasional lunchtime adventure.

My favorite lunchtime adventure came at the request of my boss, Lauren. It was a dreadfully hot day in July, and we were both tired of work and starving. If I remember properly, about half the department was out as well, which made time move even more slowly. For whatever reason, that day Lauren was not able to leave for lunch, but she desperately wanted (craved? she was pregnant) Wendy’s. After discussing this for some time she said, “Allison, if I give you my keys and my credit card would you go pick up some food for me? And an orange drink. Get something for yourself, too.” Happy for any reason to leave the office when it was that slow, I obliged.

I took the keys and credit card, along with my purse and sunglasses, and left the cool office for the scorching heat of Utah in July. The car Lauren drove was small and yellow, with black stripes (or was it a checkered pattern? now I can’t remember) along the sides. I got inside, put the key in the ignition, and the car wouldn’t start. Nope, it set off an alarm instead.

I somehow stopped the alarm and tried again. No dice. What the crap is wrong with this car? Or maybe it’s me. I did have trouble starting my own car on the way to that piano recital. And I can never get home from Powell’s properly. Maybe I have bad car karma. (That was a nice little phonetic joke for you.)

Somewhat shamefacedly, I went back into the office to tell Lauren that I didn’t know how to start her car without alerting the police, not to mention the entire neighboring area. Thankfully, there was a reason for it. What reason I certainly do not remember, so if ever I come across that car again I’m absolutely sure I would set off the alarm.

But I made it to Wendy’s, and we had a delicious lunch.