Hello Foot, Meet Mouth

One of the things I get to do at my job is help men and women obtain vital documentation such as a birth certificate, social security card, state ID or license.  I've practically become best buddies with the people at the MVA, and I've been known to call other states to try and get a birth certificate for someone who didn't know how to spell his mother's name.

Yesterday, I was helping Sally, a resident here, get her birth certificate.  Sally (not her real name) is in her thirties and a mother of seven- yes, seven- children.  She's hilariously funny, loves to cook and loves her children fiercly.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number to the Department of Health, as Sally sat in my office.

me: "Hi, my name is Liz and I work with incarcerated men and women.  I'm working with one young lady to help her get her birth control."

CRAP!  What did I just say?!!

"I mean birth CERTIFICATE, birth CERTIFICATE" I yelled into the phone, as the lady on the other end of the line died laughing.