Cream Cheese Chin

I got a new sport coat this week. I am a fan. Blue wool with a faint white pin stripe. Soft shoulders and an athletic fit. Rocking it with jeans, a button down shirt, my paisley pocket square, and my cowboy boots made me smile when I caught a glimpse in the mirror, it is everything I hoped it would be when I left the store in SoHo.

I was sitting in Starbucks this morning and enjoying a bagel and some cream cheese and excited to prep for the meetings of the day. I was sipping my Venti Drip (black, no room) and starring out the window at the flurry of activity going on outside on Greenwich Ave. While in my own little world, I noticed a woman step into my line of vision. Didn't pay attention to it as there were some cabbies arguing outside that had me entertained. But as I looked up, I saw the woman was starring right at me. When she saw that I had acknowledged her, she made a hand motion from her lips down to her chin and then swooped her hand away in an exaggerated fashion. I mimicked the action and felt a nice large glob of cream cheese resting on my lower lip. She smiled, grabbed her latte, and darted out the door.

My reaction began as embarrassment, but very quickly grew into gratitude. She had just saved me from sitting and working from my laptop for hours with a cream cheese cover chin. She had in fact put into action the rule that I live by in these circumstances:

If they can change it, tell them. If they can't, keep your mouth shut.

Horrible wart on their chin, smile politely.

Cream cheese on their chin, tell them.