So I sit down at my desk and my co-worker is all like, [clap, clap, clap] "congratulations!"

And I'm all like, "excuse me?"

And she's all like, "for being a finalist."

And I'm all like, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

And she's all like, "the employee recognition awards. You're a finalist."

And I'm all like, "I didn't even know I was nominated."

I log in to my computer and the email is all like, "Congratulations to the following finalists who will be recognized at a special event at the Museum of Modern Art in New York."

And I'm all like, "New York City on a weeknight? That will be a late night. I don't know."

And one of the event coordinators is all like, "C'mon! There's gonna be good food and cocktails and a special celebrity guest!"

And I'm all like, "a special celebrity guest?"

And she's all like, "yeah."

And I'm all like, "Please let it be someone big like Carrot Top."

And she's all like, "I can't tell you who it is."

In the lobby of the Museum of Modern Art, a co-worker is all like, "so what were you nominated for?"

And I'm all like, "I guess my work with juvenile diabetes. My son Charlie was diagnosed at 22 months."

And she's all like, "I'm so sorry."

And I'm all like, "It's … well … it's not so bad … don't get me wrong, it's not good … he's doing OK.

Note: I really did stumble with this. In all the years, I don't think anyone has ever said 'I'm so sorry' after I mentioned that Charlie had diabetes. It caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say. It was kind and she was very sincere, but the words seemed so fatal.

Anyway, moving on …

And Bette Midler's all like, "It is such an honor to be here tonight."

And I'm all like, "You're not Carrot Top."

And the chairman of the company is all like, "this next award is called the High Roller award. It goes to the employee who donated or raised the most amount of money for a charitable organization."

And I'm all like, "oh shit!"

And he's all like, "and the award goes to …"

And I'm all like, "don't say my name, don't say my name, don't say my name."

And he's all like, "this employee has worked tirelessly to raise money for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation …"

And I'm all like, shit! Stay calm. Ignore the three big television cameras pointed at you and the clapping. Don't trip walking up the steps to get your award. One foot in front of the other. You don't want to be a youtube casualty."

And the chairman is all like, [shaking my hand] "We're very proud of you."

And I'm all like, "thank you very much."

And with a microphone and a camera crew in my face, an Eastern European reporter is all like, "so vot is your motivation for thees?"

And I'm all like, "My son Charlie and the millions of others out there with type 1 diabetes."

And she's all like, "Nice. OK, who next for interview?" 

Walking around the museum, I'm all like, "Is there even any alcohol in these drinks? This is my fifth one and I'm not even slightly buzzed."

And Henri Matisse's Woman on a High Stool (1914) turns to me and is all like, "you sure about that, Carey?"