A friend of mine swears this story changed her perspective on life's embarrassing moments. Perhaps it might change yours too.
Picture this: The fanciest French restaurant in town. The kind where the menu doesn't show prices and the waiters judge you for pronouncing the wine names wrong. My friend Makee had spent three months securing a reservation for her big pitch meeting with potential French investors. She'd bought a new power suit "on credit because looking successful costs more than being successful" (her words, not mine), practised her presentation until her cat could probably recite it, and even watched YouTube videos on proper fine-dining etiquette. Because she didn't dare to see anything go wrong.
"I had it all planned," she'd said, laughing so hard she snorted wine through her nose. "I'd memorized the pronunciation of every French dish. I'd practised the proper way to dab my mouth with a napkin. I even bought special non-slip underwear because I only needed a wedgie during my market projection slides."
"Everything had to be perfect," At this time I was already laughing so hard tears formed in my eyes. "I'd even Googled 'how to sit like a CEO." I dabbed my eyes with the napkin and Makee threw hers at me "Don't laugh T, If only you were there that day…"
The meeting started perfectly. She had arrived 2 hours early to ensure everything was prim and proper. She was sweating on her palms and feet. She'd walked into the restaurant radiating confidence, her presentation materials tucked into a leather portfolio that cost more than her first car.
The investors walked into the restaurant about 2 hours later, and the moment she saw them she knew they were the ones she was waiting for. Three serious-looking people in even more serious-looking suits. She stood from her seat "elegantly" and made a gesture of welcome with her wave, a professional smile plastered on her face as she gritted her teeth in nervousness
Then came the moment that would live in infamy.
Makee moved to sit down, doing that elegant thing where you smooth your pants behind your knees first. She was halfway through, what she called her "graceful descent" when it happened… The sound that would change her life forever. Not just any sound, but the kind of sound that makes time stop. The distinctive R-I-I-I-P that every human being in her situation would dread and make everyone in a fifty-foot radius instinctively clench…
Her brand-new power suit pants had split right down the middle.
"It wasn't just a split," she wheezed, barely able to tell the story through her laughter. "My pants didn't just rip – they EXPLODED. We're talking full posterior disclosure. And guess what colour underwear I was wearing?" she paused for dramatic effect… "Hot pink... With little unicorns. Because my non-slip confidence underwear was in the laundry."
At this time, My shock was so huge that I couldn't even laugh (As I'm sure you'd be too if you were the one listening to this story. But that's by the way)
The silence that followed was, as Makee puts it, "so thick you could've carved it into portions and charged $89.99 per serving." One investor started choking on his water. Another suddenly became fascinated with his butter knife, probably contemplating the morning news to escape the awkwardness. The third – a silver-haired woman with perfectly curled hair who looked like she'd never had a wardrobe malfunction in her entire life – just sat there, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.
Makee remained frozen, half-squatting, With a crooked grin that she couldn't get rid of. "I looked like a broken game character," she snorted. "You know when video games glitch and the character gets stuck mid-animation? That was me."
What happened next became a company legend.
Instead of running away (her first instinct) or bursting into tears (her second instinct), She straightened up, turned around to give them the full view of her unicorn-covered shame, and said with deadpan delivery: "Well, I was going to demonstrate market penetration in my presentation, this wasn't quite what I had in mind, but I guess it'll do."
The silver-haired woman snorted – actually snorted – and then started laughing too. Soon the whole table was in stitches.
Makee regained some confidence and proceeded to give her entire presentation standing up, using her portfolio as a makeshift rear guard. She occasionally turned around "strategically" while saying things like… "And as you can see behind me..." She even worked her wardrobe malfunction into her market analysis: "Like my pants, the market is splitting at the seams with robust opportunities."
Anyway, fast forward to later… They didn't just fund her project, they doubled the investment.
When I asked the silver-haired woman why she thought they did, she grinned "Darling! Anyone can look perfect on paper. But they wanted to invest in someone who could keep their cool when everything went wrong."
"As I walked them out of the restaurant, she told me that she's sat through hundreds of pitches where entrepreneurs tried to prove they were perfect, but still couldn't get their shit together when it mattered most. I was the first to have proven that, I could handle a crisis with humour and grace – even if that grace were wearing unicorn underwear."
"Although she suggested, I invest some of that money in higher-quality pants."
Now Makee keeps a framed pair of unicorn underwear in her office. Under it is a plaque that reads: "Sometimes you have to risk showing your ass to get ahead."
Have you ever had a moment so mortifying it circled back around to victory? Or did you find yourself laughing when you should have been dying inside? What was your Unicorn Underwear Moment? After all, nothing brings people together quite like shared humiliation (and unicorn underwear).