Learning Farsi Getting to Five

It was time to take the plunge.  ‘Fess up and come clean.  No longer would I be trapped in a web of lies.  My colleagues deserved better.  Tomorrow would be the day of reckoning when my fears would be laid bare and my secret exposed.  Would I be mocked, made fun of, or worse, labelled a bona fide cuckoo?  There’s a valid reason as to why I traipse for miles on end, oblivious to downpours and tsunamis, hailstorms and blizzards just so I can avoid being sequestered in the tube. 

Why risk the probability of a technical malfunction miles underground, thus ensuring my entrapment in an overcrowded tin can, with zero chance of burrowing on out?

A tad dramatic, you say?  Nope.  Nada.  Not even close.

It’s called survival.  Survival of dead-ends with nowhere to go. 

I’m a claustrophobic who dreads enclosed spaces and places.  

Day one of our office move found me in quite the predicament, anxiously hovering a few yards away from the elevator, counting down the minutes until I’d have to push that dreaded button.

“Come on, you can do it”, I rationalized with myself.  “It’s just a measly five floors up and you’ll be there in a jiffy”.  I was a statue.  Immobilized.  Paralysed.  Terrified. 

The scenario went something like this:  Elevator door opens, people spill out, others clamour in, door closes.  Repeat at least thirty-five times.  The lucky ones are whisked to their desired floor in seconds flat, blissfully unaware of impending peril.  The doors could jam, or worse, get stuck between floors 12 and 14 in a steel trap with no place to go.

Tick tock.  Tick tock.  Lobby.  Empty.  It’s now a quarter to ten and I’ve been glued to the same spot for an hour or more.  Not a soul in sight and I’m deliberating on my next course of action.  And then I spy him.  Peeking out from behind the security desk, a be-speckled older gent watching my every move.  Or lack of movement, to be exact.    Caught!  Now what? There’s nowhere to hide.  Eyes fixated, I’m fully engrossed in counting the multi-hued tiles that decorate the floor, a plausibly believable task, if asked as to why I haven’t budged from my blue-tiled square.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need assistance?  I’ve noticed that you seem hesitant about the lift.  I can escort you and to ease your fears, I have a two-way radio - for just in case”. 

Salvation!

“What floor are you going to?”  “F-F-F-F-F-Five”, I blubbered.

“Breathe.  Relax.  Stay focused.  Just count to five and next thing you know you’ll be sitting in your office in seconds flat”.

On day two, I arrive at a quarter to eight, determined not to be late.  My new friend waves me over and thrusts a pile of index cards into my hands.  “Would you like to learn Farsi (Persian)?”  “Sure”, I replied, paying scant attention to his unusual request, focused instead on how I will manage to survive the dreaded elevator ride. 

“Ok.  We’ll start with numbers and count to five”.  Mr. Peyman pushes the button.  Gulp.  The challenges of getting to my office via possible entombment in a steel abyss were now my daily reality.  Double gulp.  Really should look into retirement sometime soon.

Yek is One.  Your first step”.

I’ve now broken out in a sweat and place a trembling foot inside, seeking assurance from my security guide.

Do is Two.  You’re doing great”.

We’re past the point of no return at “Seh” (Three).

Just one more floor to go after Chehar (Four) and we’re almost there!

And DING!  Just like magic, the doors slide open and I step out at Panej (Five).

Who knew that getting to the fifth floor involved jetting across the ocean, stepping foot on foreign soil and learning a new language?

And there’s still a lot more Persian to learn.  Should I perhaps request a transfer to the 42nd Floor?

Due to circumstances beyond my control and all sorts of life events and obligations, I’ve had to take a bit of a break from my blog for the past couple of months but I’m now back on track and have tons of stories to share. 

I’ll be posting every second or third weekend, so please stay tuned for more escapades with Pink Sneakers on the Go.

And, a new blog/website is in the works, so I’ll keep you in suspense until I launch it sometime in the next couple of weeks.


Next post in three weeks, end of April, beginning of May.



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