effing prom

My good friend LoCh sent me an e-mail months ago, about an energetic and (presumably) lovely group of ladies who were collecting girly prom-related items to give to young girls who couldn't afford prom dresses of their own. All together now: 'Awwwww.' Being the e-mail-active gal I am, I promptly forwarded the message to several co-workers I thought might be interested in donating.

Fast-forward a month later. Two co-workers have actually taken the time to go through their closets and come up with some odds and ends for these prom girls. One problem - they can't make any of the 'drop-off' spots because they live too far away. The very last drop-off option is at Queen/Shaw, and as that particular intersection is sort of on my way home, I agreed to take their donation and take all the credit, I mean drop it off for them. ShCo accordingly brings over to my desk a small LaSenza bag. You know the one. White, big old 'La Senza' on the side. IN the bag is the following:

3 pairs unused nylons (nude)
4 rhinestone hair clips
1 pearly necklace (no, not that kind of pearl necklace, perv)
1 dolce & gabbana bra, elegant, silver, retail $250CDN, never worn (made previous owner's boobs "too pointy")
various make-up items and other sundries

So, the bag sits on the filing cabinet in my 'area' for a couple of days. It sits there so unassumingly and quietly, that I completely forget about its existence and miss the drop-off. That's right, because of me, three girls will not have nylons to wear to their prom.

Despite missing the drop-off (Tuesday) the bag remained on my cabinet, in my 'area'. One day, I said to myself, I'll have to give that stuff back.

Today, someone (JuGo) noticed the bag and asked 'What's that?' I pulled my chair over and told her. (Picture it - my cubicle faces the door to the 'small board room'. The door is currently closed because all of the program directors are involved in a meeting behind it. My chair is facing this door, and JuGo's is to the left, with her back to the door. The cabinet is to my left.) I said, "Oh, it's random jewellery and nylons and crap for those prom girls, but I missed the drop-off. Hey, did I show you this?" I proceed to pull out the fancy, designer bra. "Can you believe someone spent $250 on a bra?" "What size is it?" asks JuGo. "I don't know," I say, "about this big." and I put one fist in each cup and hold resulting fist-bra out to JuGo.

At that very moment, the door to the small board room WHIPS open and my boss rushes out. Not my direct report, everyday boss, but THE boss. The man in charge of the entire operation. And there I am, right in front of him, with a $250 bra on my hands.

I'm still blushing.

I'm so fired.