Getting flip about slips and trips

A grizzled colleague on the verge of retirement asked me yesterday what I'd learned from our mandatory online Slip, Trip, and Fall training.

"Well," I told him, "I learned that if you must carry a large box on steep, slippery steps in the rain, you should definitely not wear high heels."

He promised to toss out all his Louboutins, but he may have been pulling my leg.

I took the Slip, Trip, and Fall training last weekend because Fall Break seemed like the appropriate time to learn how to break a fall, but that's not what I learned. I'm a longtime expert on slipping, tripping, and falling, but the only helpful advice the online training offered on how to break a fall can be paraphrased thus: If you must carry a large box on slippery steps in the rain while wearing high heels, make sure there's a certified safety officer nearby to help you get up.

Which is not to suggest that the online training was worthless. It informed me, for instance--not once but twice!--that walking around is inherently dangerous, which makes me want to curl up on a comfy sofa with a good book, except our Wellness Program keeps telling us that sitting around is inherently dangerous, leading to obesity and heart disease and joint problems and all kinds of other issues. 

Slip, Trip, and Fall Training also informed me that ice can be slippery, that power cords can be tripping hazards, and that if I need to reach something on a high shelf, I shouldn't stand on a rolling chair. Frankly, ice and power cords can't intimidate me as long as I carry with me everywhere the only tripping hazards I'll ever need--my own two feet. And I've long ago learned that if I need to reach something on a high shelf, the best thing to do is call for a tall person, preferably one who isn't a klutz.

Which reminds me of the mandatory Sexual Harassment Training some years ago that featured a scenario of a middle-aged female professor sitting in her office chair while looking admiringly upward at a hunky male student retrieving something from a high shelf. "I'm just admiring the view," she said, and the lesson here is: if you must rely on a tall non-klutzy person to retrieve something from a high shelf, try to avoid sexually harassing him in the process.

The funny thing about that particular version of Sexual Harassment Training was that in every scenario, the sexual harasser was--how shall I put this tactfully?--fat. A Person of Size, shall we say. Our Wellness Program may be trying to prevent sexual harassment when it hectors us to get up off your fat butt and get moving, but our Slip, Trip, and Fall training says Not so fast! Walking around is inherently dangerous!

And so I sit here, surrounded by tripping hazards and torn between the need to keep moving and the desire to stay safe, so confused that if I happen to fall flat on my back, I'll probably just lie there and enjoy the view.