I work in a small office. There are 8 of us. Sometimes 9 if our part-timer is in, which is rarely.
Three of us ride our bikes to work at least once a week.
I wear a bike helmet. This morning my boss, who also rides, was giving me kind of a hard time. I think he’s a wind-in-the-hair kind of fella.
“What do you need that for?” he asked.
I just looked at him for a minute, surprised he even asked. Then I replied with: “[boss], you’ve met me, right? In just the last year I’ve sprained my wrist, thrown out my back, torn a ligament in my ankle, required stitches on two different occasions, shut my hand in a filing cabinet, fallen down stairs, shut my head in the elevator door, and flipped backwards out of my desk chair. Why do you think I wear the helmet?”
“Point taken,” he murmured quietly, wandering into his office.