🤯 The Sephora incident that broke my brain

Last weekend I had what I can only describe as a social interaction disaster so spectacularly mortifying, I spent the next two hours questioning my entire ability to function as an adult in society.

I needed foundation for a wedding and decided to brave Sephora in Paris on a weekend. Since my French is limited, I found an employee who pointed me to someone "amazing with makeup" who could help.

I waited respectfully behind this guy doing his own makeup, and when he turned around, I smiled and said:

"Hi! I'm looking for foundation and your colleague said you could help-"

He stopped me mid-sentence: "I'm doing my makeup. I don't work here." Then turned right back around.

I stood there completely stunned. Brain offline, mouth slightly open, processing-error stunned.

I just... accepted it and walked away.

I left Sephora foundation-less, confused, and spiraling into a full existential crisis about why I couldn't defend myself in the moment.

And that's when I realized: if I'm going to have social disasters this spectacular, I might as well document them.

After my Sephora brain freeze, I collected similar disasters from fellow overthinkers.

🥈 SILVER - Maya, 31: "Got charged for the deluxe car wash when I clearly asked for basic. Watched them add wax, tire shine, interior vacuum, the works. When they handed me the €45 bill instead of €12, I just paid it. Drove home in my unnecessarily shiny car, questioning my life choices."

🥇 GOLD - Alex: "Hairdresser cut off 8 inches when I asked for a trim. I watched in the mirror, dying inside, as my long hair fell to the floor. When they spun me around and said 'Perfect!' I smiled and tipped 20%. Wore hats for three months."

We're all out here choosing financial loss, professional setbacks, and digestive distress over thirty seconds of mild social discomfort.

Can I tell you something? After collecting these stories, I had this moment of clarity:

That guy at Sephora? He probably forgot about our interaction within five minutes. The waiter has no idea Tom had an existential crisis over his order. Maya's car is still unnecessarily shiny from that overpriced wash. Alex's hairdresser thinks they gave an amazing transformation.

But here's what hit me:

They're just the tax we pay for being human in a world where social interactions are weirdly complicated and nobody gave us a manual.

Maybe that's the real reality check: our social disasters live so much bigger in our heads than they do in anyone else's memory. We're carrying around shame about moments that barely existed for the other people involved.

So if you're reading this and cringing about something from last week, or replaying a conversation from three months ago... welcome to being human.

This is the very first issue of Half Figured, which means you're either a very early adopter or one of my friends who I guilted into subscribing. Either way, welcome to what I hope becomes a safe space for people figuring it out life and occasionally making questionable decisions.

Every week, I'll share my latest social disasters and hopefully you'll share yours. Send me ALL your disasters - dating, career, family, friendship, random Tuesday interactions.

If it made you question your ability to human properly, I want to hear it at [email protected].