Thursday, September 21, 2006

me vs. reality

If I was someone else that worked in my office, and I saw the real me going to the bathroom all the time, I would seriously think I was doing bathroom coke or something. Maybe even bathroom heroin, because there are definitely some parts on my body that remain clothed to cover the track marks. I of course, wouldn’t know me very well because I am exceptionally good at sending out “don’t talk to me” vibes. So I wouldn’t know that I have a real thing with needles, and with things in my nose. I also wouldn’t know that I have a condition that I’ve dubbed Small Bladder Syndrome.

Not only do I refill my water bottle 2-3 times a day, I also “empty” my water bottle that often, if you get my drift. Not to mention the countless times I get ink on my hands or (like yesterday) drop an open sharpee all over my shirt. So to add to my dehydration and SBS, I’m also a little retarded. If there wasn’t a bathroom nearby, I wouldn’t last long.

But the other me observing all this would have no idea. I would just assume I was a drug addict. That would explain the frequent bathroom trips, the apparent mood swings, the eccentricity (who has purple hair besides drug addicts?), the rock music, the constant snacking, the neatness of my desk, the speed at which I get things done, and many other work behaviours. Of course I would assume that these are behaviours that I display other places besides work, and I would at least be right about that.

The problem is that I have an overactive imagination and not enough work to occupy my mind. So I think of explanations for questions that will never arise, such as “why are you always going into the bathroom?” I have the whole scenario ready in my head:

Someone reports my suspicious actions to the boss, we have a private conference. I can’t convince him of my innocence because I’m sure I’ve done nothing wrong. I end up fired, which I’m ok with. In my interview for my next job I have to explain why I was fired, and I give the whole story. It sounds plausible enough to a newcomer, so I’m hired. They do, however, keep a close watch on my bathroom activities. I find about it and freak out. I call up all my law-talking buddies and take the offenders to court. There is indisputable evidence that they invaded my privacy and broke the law, and I receive a large cash settlement. All is well in the world.

I think about things like this not only at work, but while walking down the street and riding the train too. I have a lot of time to plan my imaginary future. So don’t be surprised if you ask me a random question and I give a prepared speech. It’s the normal things that I’m not prepared for.

3 comments:

Bamboo Lemur Boys Are Mean To Their Girls said...

You and I both have too much time on our hands. I too have funny well rehearsed speeches to give to the right questions. I'm a dog walker, when I'm not chatting with friends I'm chatting with myself. This can be good, this can be bad.

Suzanne said...

All of the high quaity women who work at Bluestockings Bookstore on the LES have purple (or blue or bright red) hair. I did not assume they did drugs, but then again, I never think people are doing drugs because I am very naive. I'd probably assume that you had to pee a lot if I worked with you. On the other hand, you seem to work with morons, so I would not put anything past them.

Gandhi - the chatting with yourself thing is good unless you are in public and doing it outloud.

super des said...

I know I make faces while chatting with myself (in my head). That might add do the "don't talk to me" thing.

I need to work at that bookstore.

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