About a month ago, I had to go over to a store Grand Opening in Soho on behalf of one of my clients.  I got a little turned around because Google Maps sent me to the address of their old store instead of the shiny new one that was the cause for celebration.  All the wandering around had cost me time and I was running late and working up a sweat.  I called the store, got the correct address and sprinted my way there.

About half a block away, as I slowed down to check my emails one last time before stepping into the soiree filled with industry folk and media, I stepped in something and nearly fell.  It was banana peel slippery and it smelled like gut rot.  I stepped in the biggest pile of dog shit that ever existed.  In fact, it may have been human shit.  Or elephant shit.  I mean, this was a big, steamy rotten pile and now it was stuck to my boot and I smelled like I pooped my own pants!

If you’ve ever been to Soho, you know that neighborhood is loaded with posh and pricey boutiques, but very short on patches of grass to rake shit off of your boots.  So, I began to frantically walk-run around the neighborhood in search of a square inch of grass or any footwear stores looking to make an easy buck from me.  No luck.

Then, I passed by a maintenance man power washing the facade of one of the stores. Genius stuck. “Excuse me sir.  Um, I’ve just stepped in dog poop and I need to go to this fancy store opening and ….  well, could you power wash my boot,” I begged.  He took at look at my boot.  “Lady, I can’t use the pressure washer on your boot cuz the shit bits will fly everywhere, ya know?  But…look here. Dunk your foot in this bucket and I’ll help you.” I braced his shoulder with one arm as he gently dunked my foot into his water bucket. Then he took out a rag and cleaned the shit bits from the bottom of my boot as I dry heaved.  This man was absolutely a saint.  He is everything that is right in this world and is the very reason New York City is the best city.

I was fashionably late to the opening where I relayed the story of the poopy boot and the saintly power washer to my colleague.  He began consoling me about my bad day, but I was having none of it! I explained how the interaction with the saintly power washer was an amazing display of humanity and added “besides…stepping in dog shit is good luck!”  My colleague insisted “that’s just something people who step in dog shit say to make themselves feel better.”

The event closed and I made my way back to my home office to finish up the work day.  That afternoon, I received a phone call from a business acquaintance. We had a handshake agreement with no real terms or end date to our arrangement and we hadn’t spoken in a few months. So, imagine my surprise when he told me he was calling because his business had sold and he wanted to make good on our (very vague) agreement and  send me a sizable (seriously) check in the mail. I felt like I won the lottery!  I don’t know if stepping in dog shit helped or not, but I’ll be less panicky next time I step in a steamy pile. Which is, of course, a metaphor for life. When things are shitty, keep smiling…help and good fortune are on their way!

Musical pairing to enhance your reading pleasure: