Sometimes I wonder if the world is taking revenge on me. Take last week, for instance. I was running late to my very important meeting in the bustling New York City when an old woman hobbled out of the supermarket and dropped one of her grocery bags spilling all her apples. I knew I could have stopped and helped her, but I didn’t for two, very good reasons; I was late to my meeting and I was wearing a tight, black skirt that I didn’t want to rip when I bent down. And so, I hurried on to my meeting even though I felt guilty inside, especially when I accidentally kicked a poor, bruised apple that was rolling around with my black Marc Jacobs stilettos. Little did I know that that one act of hostility caused my day to turn upside down.

For right after that event, as I power-walked my way forward, my right stilettos suddenly wouldn’t move as if it was uprooted to the concrete sidewalk. Once I moved my heel high enough, I realized with despair that a fat piece of disgusting, sticky pink gum was stuck to my heel and connected to the ground. Grimacing, I attempted to scrape my shoe against the sidewalk, but horrifyingly, my seven hundred dollar shoe was sent to its grave early as the heel snapped.

This could not be happening! I thought in horror. I had to do something about it and I couldn’t walk with one good heel, so I decided to call a taxi to take me up the next couple blocks. That was when I felt something wet on my cheek.

Ew! I thought. Did a bird just poop on my cheek? Just as I was pondering this, moor droplets of wetness came and as I glanced up at the increasingly gray and cloudy sky, I found despairingly that it was raining.

Oh my god! Desperately, I waved my now drenched expensive blazer arm covered arm for a taxi screaming for one on the top of my lungs. How could I have been so stupid as to not bring an umbrella? What was my boss going to say when he saw my messed up hair and wet clothes?

Finally, and thank god, when a taxi pulled over as I eagerly hopped into the toasty interior. I told the man, who looked sort of friendly, where my building was and he drove off as I took a look into my compact mirror. That was when I let out a piercing scream, which caused the cab driver swerve around the corner in surprise.

“Sorry,” I cried, and the driver was obviously p*ssed at me, but my reflection was a nightmare for my hair was sticking up in odd angles and my mascara resembled a drunken wh*re.

When I finally got to my meeting, I was in a horrible mood. I was late and I looked like I had jumped into the ocean, which I wished I did instead for my day was just getting worse.

That’s when my boss, an intimidating man over six feet with a stern face, said those words, “You’re fired,” and I recalled that poor apple, bruised and rolling around, and I knew that I should have taken my time to help that poor old woman.

Karma could be jerk sometimes.