Defeated by Details

When talking to one of my coworkers today I remarked on their glasses:


"Nice glasses. Are those new?"


"No," she said, "I've had them since Junior High."

As you can tell, I'm not the kind of person to remember details. The only way that exchange could have gone worse would have been like this:


"Nice glasses. Are those new?"


"No. I was given these glasses at birth. They've been in my family for three generations, and I've worn them every day I've worked with you."


"Oh... cool."


I honestly feel like my brain has no capacity to remember features of the people around me. If you confronted me as I was leaving the office and asked me to describe one article of clothing I saw someone wearing at work I would draw a blank.


Deep down I'm afraid that one day I will be the key witness to some sort of crime and give the shittiest description of a human being the police have ever heard.


"So, do you remember what the suspect looked like?"


"Uh, sure."


"Can you describe them? Officer McConnell here will be using the information to create a sketch of their likeness."


"... Okay."

[Long pause]


"Whenever you're ready. First of all, was it a man or a woman?"


" ... I'm thinking."


"Anything at all will help. You're the only person who saw them."


"Um, I'm like 70% sure it was a guy. But don't quote me on that."


"... And?"


"And, I'm pretty certain they had a face."


"What was he wearing?"


"[Long exhale] ...gosh. I guess he or she was wearing a bunch of different articles of clothing. Or maybe it was a one-piece jumpsuit that had different colours. Or maybe his or her body was painted to look like clothes. It's hard to remember. It was pretty dark."


"It was mid-afternoon in the park."


" ... The sun was in my eyes?"


"That's it. You're under arrest for being a clueless shithead."