OUR STORY

MICHAEL'S STORY

Mckenzie and I met at work. You probably think you know how the story goes but let me caution you friend, this is no ordinary workplace romance dominated by platonic group outings, cubicle jockeying, and a general lack of interest. No sir/ma’am.

At the ripe age of young I sought employment when I couldn’t find any interest in acquiring a formal secondary education. It didn’t need to be anything glamorous either, just somewhere I could clock in, do what was asked of me, and get paid every so often. Cost Plus World Market, Early Morning Stock Crew, Seasonal. Perfect. And so I went to work every morning at 3am stocking shelves and generally enjoying myself. I quickly made some friends and fell into a comfortable rhythm. At this particular World Market there was a large tired cork board just inside the break room door plastered with polaroids of all the employees. This is where I first laid eyes on my dearly beloved.

Two weeks after I started I came in one morning and gave an obligatory sideways glance at the board as I walked past, and I made such a fierce double take I rolled my ankle. I stood in front of the board staring at a blurry polaroid of the new girl long enough someone hit me with the door on their way in. I was awestruck. Actually, the degree to which I was so completely enthralled by this girl got kind of embarrassing. I would take an EXTRA long time to hang up my coat every morning. I would be sure to double back through the break room even though it was rarely the quickest route. And sometimes I just unabashedly stared at the cork board wondering what she was like. She had a warm smile and equally warm eyes to match, a posture that held the perfect balance between confidence and awkwardness, and she rocked a black standard issue World Market apron like a boss. She struck me as the most genuine person I had ever seen photographed. She was impossibly beautiful. It was decided, I would meet this Mckenzie who spelled her name with no “a” or capital “K”.

As fate would have it we worked as opposite of a shift as legally possible. I came in at 3am and left by 11:30am, she came in around 2pm and left at 10:30pm. Fortunately though as the holiday season approached and the retail frenzy ramped up staffing got switched around so she would occasionally start at 8am and I would have a glorious three and half hours to find reasons to be around her. After seeing her in person I knew I had been right to sacrifice my ankle. After she laughed at a sarcastic off-handed joke I made at a customer’s expense I knew we were meant to be. Early on, in an attempt to break the ice while we were mutually unwrapping gaudy Christmas ornaments caked in glitter, I asked casually “so, how old are you anyway?” She sheepishly replied and consequently dashed all my hopes to pieces. Our ages were different. Not drastically so, but enough I was certain she would never be interested in me. I sought condolence from a good friend and explained my dilemma in depth. After hearing my blight he responded without missing a beat, “Michael, there isn’t any girl you couldn’t get”.  It’s important to have friends that believe in you.

With renewed confidence I did what any desperate young man would when in pursuit of a woman wildly out of his league; I invented a reason for us to hang out. Outside of work. However, I wasn’t so tragically hopeless as to think I could launch into this head first and come out with any measure of success. This would require research. I went to work overhauling my Facebook with deep quotes and manly hobbies until I was certain it would be irresistible to any unsuspecting female. Then I added her as a friend, just super casual, no big deal. And I waited. Fervently. I checked multiple times a day and pretended it didn’t break my heart a little bit every time I logged in only to see she hadn’t accepted my request. Until finally- I logged in, clicked on my friends AND SHE WAS THERE. A wave of joy/excitement/terror washed over me which I quickly swallowed down with a heavy dose of wishfully prideful thinking. I relaxed my shoulders, and sighed expectantly as though I were a career criminal mastermind watching my masterpiece unfold without a hitch from a safe distance. And then I proceeded to creep her Facebook page. Thoroughly. I may have taken notes. After I was certain I knew what stuff she liked I moved on to the next phase. The Ask.

At the time she was moonlighting as a cashier and so I made up an excuse to buy something (because what 19 year old male with manly hobbies doesn’t need a stacking mug set and elephant shaped teapot?) and awkwardly waited for her line to be open. Upon purchasing the frivolous goods I would later dispose of, I asked once more in my most casual tone, “so what are you doing tomorrow, wanna go to Target with me?” She thought for a moment and then said in a convincingly disappointed voice “Sorry, I work tomorrow”. Having triple checked the schedule I knew for a FACT, that she did not. I took this as a polite decline. The research had failed. I went from unbelievably hopeful to unbelievably crushed in zero seconds. It was settled, I was inadequate. But then with a sudden glimmer of realization she followed up with “Oh wait, no I don’t. Target? Sure, I love Target.”

Again I mentally congratulated myself with a reserved sense of expectancy, as though I had just completed a routine dusting of a familiar piece of furniture with flawless results. Choosing to ignore the fact that I had almost pooped my pants when I thought she was rejecting me point blank-I try to focus on the positive you guys-I did my best to stifle the stupid grin that was fighting to take over my entire face and choked out, “Cool. See you tomorrow.”

“I don’t have your number,” she said. “Oh. Um...” I COULDN’T THINK OF MY NUMBER. I stammered. I looked to the white elephant teapot I would later use once at a half baked tea party with my best friend's girlfriend's little sister. But nothing came. Perhaps these pants were meant to get pooped. On the verge of panic  I recovered miraculously, “What’s yours? I’ll text you.” She wrote it down on a scrap piece of paper and I quickly made for the door before I could further trip over myself.

Our first date, which to this day Mckenzie refuses to admit was a date, consisted of Target, Kohls, and Magic. The kind of magic that would make a believer out of even the coldest skeptic. Oh and also, it was super awkward. Truthfully we wandered around giant retail stores with a very limited official agenda and the unspoken pretext of getting to know each other as the primary objective. It was kind of rough. I asked her straight up what she was doing with her life. Date one. Asked her why she was working with me, instead of anything else. I am awesome.

The funny thing about our first date is that it was our second to last. We moved from the going on dates stage almost immediately into the hang out stage. And stayed there. I know, I know, how did she get so lucky? We’ve spent the majority of our relationship just being together, and loving it. Not because we strive to be exclusive, but because we’re both so content doing anything if it’s together (except board games, we would probably both choose to dig a hole for the sake of digging a hole before playing board games). Thus it was not so un-poetically that I chose a sunny afternoon hang out with my parents to drop confidently to one knee and ask that impossibly beautiful girl if she would hang out with me for the duration of our lives. After seriously asking me if I was serious, she said yes.

MCKENZIE'S STORY

When I graduated from college, I was the cliché liberal arts alumna that had a degree and no plan.  I started coaching a high school soccer team, spent a year managing the coffee shop where I had previously worked during a summer vacation, went to Europe, and was hit with reality upon my return.  I needed a job.  I was coaching again, and looking for something to do with my psychology/education background.  I applied for countless jobs, many in the surrounding school districts with little/no response (I think I even got a rejection letter from a job I didn’t apply to).  As the soccer season came to a close (and with it, so did my promise of a paycheck), I got desperate.  But the holiday season was approaching, so I knew retail stores would be as desperate for warm bodies, as I was for a steady income.  I had just been to a World Market for the first time a month before hand, and had wandered through its aisles of eclectic merchandise for almost an hour.  I figured I liked that stuff, a discount wouldn’t be terrible, why not try there?  I applied, was called in for an interview the next day, and hired almost on the spot.  Someone wanted to hire me, I was pumped.

A couple of weeks after I had started, I remember my sister-in-law asking me if I had met any cute guys.  I laughed it off and told her no, I was mostly working with women and guys in their mid-forties.  The very next day I met Michael.  I needed assistance with something up at the register and had to use the dreaded intercom system to ask for someone to rescue me.  Michael was the first to respond and the first words he said were, “Did I hear a nine-r in there?”  Quoting a movie while simultaneously teasing my shy request for help?  I was intrigued.  After the customer left, we introduced ourselves and chatted real quick and awkward-like.  As he walked away, I remember making a mental note to call Jess and let her know that I needed to revise my answer.

Michael and I worked opposite schedules, so we rarely crossed paths, but whenever we did we always joked around, making fun of ugly Christmas ornaments and laughing at irate customers.  One day a group of us was standing around and chatting and something came up about one of them being 19 and married.  I think one of us commented on being shocked at how young she was, and another girl in the group piped up and said “Well, I’m 23 and married.”  Michael turned to me and asked “Are you married too?”  I laughed (probably too hard) and said absolutely not.  He then asked how old I was.  23.  I asked him the same questions.  Single and 19.  Darn.  I was crushed that my crush was so much younger and told myself “it would never work.”

As World Market stayed open later and later as the holiday drew near, our schedules stretched further apart, and I saw him less and less.  He friended me on Facebook, I added him on MySpace (people still used that back then).  Then mysteriously he started showing up to buy things while I was working.  I remember teasing him about his purchases and asking why he was there, “Don’t you need to be back here at midnight?  Why aren’t you sleeping?”  Still crushing, but thinking it would never happen, I didn’t really think much of his seemingly random stop-ins.  Until one day in mid-December.  I was helping my boss with displays throughout the store, when all of a sudden we were slammed with customers.  I jumped on a register to help out, and noticed Michael lingering in an aisle nearby.  The rush slowed and I was about to close down my register, when Michael jumped in line.  I started to ring him up and this is how I remember the interaction going…

Mckenzie:  Elephant teapot?  Really?

Michael: I’m taking my friend’s little sister to a tea party.

Mckenzie:  Wow, that’s nice of you.  Also, a little strange.

Michael:  Haha yeah, she’s really sweet.  How’s your day going?

Mckenzie: Oh fine, a little busy.

Michael: What are you up to tomorrow? I was wondering if you wanted to go to Target with me?

Mckenzie: I work tomorrow, I’ll be here (while thinking, well that was random and unexpected—I was still pretty clueless as to his intentions at this point).

(Insert awkward pause here, while I notice Michael giving me a knowing look like, “no you don’t,” which made me second guess what day of the week it was, realize I actually have the following day off…)

Mckenzie:  Oh, actually I’m off tomorrow.  Did you say Target?  I love it there.

Michael:  Sweet.  Yeah, let’s do it.  I’ll see you tomorrow.

He started to gather his purchases and walk away, I interrupted…

Mckenzie:  Um, when? I don’t have your number.

Michael: Oh, what’s yours?  I’ll text you mine.

I wrote it down on the back of some register tape and handed it over.

Mckenzie:  Be careful with that, I don’t give that out to just anybody.

He laughed and walked away, leaving me dumbfounded.  Did that just happen?  Did he just ask me out while our boss was less than 10 feet away?  It’s weird that he seemed to know that I wasn’t working.  Did he look at my schedule?  Also, how did he know I liked Target?  I guess we are friends on Facebook, and I’m pretty sure I put that in the “things I like” part of my profile.  Did that just happen?

I can’t lie, I was really excited and equally scared.  He seemed to have done his research, but I really didn’t know well him at all.  Target was a public place, so I wasn’t THAT worried, but I also knew my sister-in-law was going to be shopping in Redmond that day, so I told her to be on standby just in case I needed an out.  But for someone who was “scared off” I sure spent a lot of time picking out an outfit.

When he walked up to me in Target the next day, I remember thinking he looked really nice in normal clothes. “But he is 19,” said my inner monologue.  “And you don’t even know if this is a date.”

We wandered somewhat aimlessly through Target “looking for Christmas presents.” Chatted and joked, talked about the family and friends for which we were buying presents.  But mostly it was awkward.  We were there for so long that we actually ran into my sister-in-law, and ended up shopping with her for a little while.  We helped him pick out a tie for the aforementioned tea party. “Awkward, and definitely not a date,” I thought.

Evening was closing in and Michael had to go home to sleep for a few hours before starting his shift in the middle of the night.  We parted ways with an awkward wave, if I remember correctly.  Definitely not a date.

I started referring to him as “19-year-old” to my friends in an effort to talk myself out of my crush, which was clearly going nowhere.  We didn't work together again until Christmas Eve.  He was wearing a dress shirt and tie for the occasion, and I remember getting a smile when I told him he looked nice.  He texted me the next day, wishing me a Merry Christmas.  We texted back and forth all day and into the night talking about what Santa brought us, and family traditions.  I loved every second, and thought “Maybe I’m crazy, but there seems to be something here.”

After Christmas we were both promoted to new, full-time positions that meant our shifts overlapped much more often.  We flirted.  But I still referred to him as “19-year-old” when he wasn’t around.  Eventually we talked about hanging out again, both agreeing that “Target day” wasn’t the best.  We both had the same day off the following week and decided to try again.  Our first date.

We met for coffee, and sat on opposite sides of an awkwardly large round table, but the conversation was less than awkward.  Direct, but not awkward.  He asked me why I was working at World Market when I had a college degree; I made fun of him for adding sugar to his mocha.  We sat in that coffee shop and talked for a couple hours, then decided to head to the mall because Michael “needed a sweatshirt” (something else in my likes section on Facebook…hmmm).  I helped him pick out a zip up which he still owns but rarely wears.  We window shopped, joked some more and decided we were hungry and agreed to tack on dinner to our daylong adventures.  It was comfortable and fun.

After that we ended up hanging out almost daily for the next couple of weeks.  Somehow I still wasn’t convinced that he felt the same way I did.  Then one night after watching movie at my house, he kissed me.  I said, “Finally.”  Out loud.  We both laughed.

Fast forward four and half years to May 13, 2012.  He knelt down on one knee and asked me to marry him.  In a state of confusion, I mustered the word “yes,” but inside I said “finally.”