A sticky, humid morning welcomes me as I open my bleary eyes this day. Not ideal. But still, with a reluctant and positively awkward demeanour,I stagger out of bed in order to ready myself for another day of travel, adventure, and occupation.
Yes, my fine-feathered friends (I truly am hoping at some point that Big Bird will read this; for now, I will utilize my imagination), I have come to regard my workplace with a certain amount of tenderness, with those humming fluorescent lights, those obscured visions of civilization captured through blind-covered windows, and that faint scent of photocopying machines lingering in the heavily conditioned air. Before I can enjoy these perks, however, I must embark on a journey through the city streets and highways, by way of (dare I say it)... PUBLIC TRANSIT.
Aaaahhhh, the wonderfully un-crisp morning. It is 6:57AM and already small beads of perspiration are forming along the contours of my face. Charming. The r u s h to catch the bus further heightens the amount of discomfort that I experience during the course of this morning. Frazzled and frayed, I mount the steps to the bus, and seat myself in a rigid, barely-cushioned space after a careful selection, ensuring my solitude on the bus. Because we all know: no one wants to chat it up so very early in the day, or be the filling in a bus-and-human sandwich. In fact, we go so out of our way to avoid human contact, that we rely on print novels and sound-obliterating earphones to assist us! There is nothing wrong with this approach, however, but I do feel myself a bit unfriendly when, deliberately, upon seeing a familiar face just climb on to the same bus, I avert my eyes, and suddenly realize just how astounding my fingernails really are.
I do apologize if I have committed this perceived faux-pas against you, my dear friend, but believe me, you are -much- better off attempting not to make forced conversation with me at 7:06AM, while we both appear to have had very recent and very poorly conducted Botox surgery on our faces, especially when you know that you yourself do not want to speak to me, either. And when you purposefully and adorably, in an oblivious-to-my-lack-of-response-to-you manner sit beside me, well, believe it or not, my seat-occupying scrumpet, I will still attempt to ignore your existence. And when you nudge me surreptitiously, hoping that I will turn your way, please start to understand that I really do not want to talk to you, because at this point I am SO ABSORBED in my book that not a hurricane nor a tornado will mar my focus. But when you poke me quite forcefully after many failed attempts, and I start, jerk around and pretend that I have just met my long-lost relative, I evidently cannot hide myself in the shelter of my now-intruded bubble of space. And when I wipe the beaming smile off my face and make purposefully pathetic conversation with you, I hope you doubt your resolve to sit beside me, because our very brief talk will have comprised of pursed lips and much nodding, with many 'Yeah, for SURE's and 'I know!'s, and other statements declaring my agreement to your captivating story that I am only half-listening to, and a whole lot of strained silence that you so desperately attempt to puncture, my favourite parts of which are the times that we are stuck in traffic for a very long time, and you HAVE to comment on how bad the rush-hour jam is and delve into yet another utterly pointless story about your vehicle and gas prices and the weather and the ever-suffering economy, while I wait for you to busy yourself with something else so that I can return to my novel.
If I STILL fail at shaking you off, I will definitely send my comrades an electronic message with my cellular telephoning device, telling them how very annoyed I am and how I wish I had taken the later bus, while asking you to excuse me for my rudeness while I send a text message to my co-worker. And if you most unfortunately ask me politely prying questions about my employment, I will say "It's great, I really like it!" and ask you to excuse me once more, because I WILL go so far as to imagine that I have received a phone call, and converse with myself. Hopefully, at this point, you will realize that I am actively attempting to derail your mission to talk with me, because I will keep doing it until one of us departs. By the time this fiasco is completed, I will be so drained that I will wonder whether it was really worth trying so hard, and will feel pretty horrible for shunning your company so profusely, which will result in me feeling like a terrible person all day, but really, I will justify to myself, it is you to blame, because if I had successfully hidden myself well enough and avoided you, all of this never would have happened. So thank you for destroying my morning*.
I really do ask for you to pardon my behaviour, but you should really have gotten the gist of it when we made the initial eye contact and I quickly turned my head to look out the window at the fire hydrant that suddenly became a magnet for my retinas. Maybe, just maybe, next time we can talk on the weekend, or at a later time in the morning, or any other time except 7:06AM, when I have only started my day one hour previous, and need some time to adjust to the heat, the unwanted liquids on my skin, and a seat that is causing a considerable amount of pain to my backside.
Yes, my fine-feathered friends (I truly am hoping at some point that Big Bird will read this; for now, I will utilize my imagination), I have come to regard my workplace with a certain amount of tenderness, with those humming fluorescent lights, those obscured visions of civilization captured through blind-covered windows, and that faint scent of photocopying machines lingering in the heavily conditioned air. Before I can enjoy these perks, however, I must embark on a journey through the city streets and highways, by way of (dare I say it)... PUBLIC TRANSIT.
Aaaahhhh, the wonderfully un-crisp morning. It is 6:57AM and already small beads of perspiration are forming along the contours of my face. Charming. The r u s h to catch the bus further heightens the amount of discomfort that I experience during the course of this morning. Frazzled and frayed, I mount the steps to the bus, and seat myself in a rigid, barely-cushioned space after a careful selection, ensuring my solitude on the bus. Because we all know: no one wants to chat it up so very early in the day, or be the filling in a bus-and-human sandwich. In fact, we go so out of our way to avoid human contact, that we rely on print novels and sound-obliterating earphones to assist us! There is nothing wrong with this approach, however, but I do feel myself a bit unfriendly when, deliberately, upon seeing a familiar face just climb on to the same bus, I avert my eyes, and suddenly realize just how astounding my fingernails really are.
I do apologize if I have committed this perceived faux-pas against you, my dear friend, but believe me, you are -much- better off attempting not to make forced conversation with me at 7:06AM, while we both appear to have had very recent and very poorly conducted Botox surgery on our faces, especially when you know that you yourself do not want to speak to me, either. And when you purposefully and adorably, in an oblivious-to-my-lack-of-response-to-you manner sit beside me, well, believe it or not, my seat-occupying scrumpet, I will still attempt to ignore your existence. And when you nudge me surreptitiously, hoping that I will turn your way, please start to understand that I really do not want to talk to you, because at this point I am SO ABSORBED in my book that not a hurricane nor a tornado will mar my focus. But when you poke me quite forcefully after many failed attempts, and I start, jerk around and pretend that I have just met my long-lost relative, I evidently cannot hide myself in the shelter of my now-intruded bubble of space. And when I wipe the beaming smile off my face and make purposefully pathetic conversation with you, I hope you doubt your resolve to sit beside me, because our very brief talk will have comprised of pursed lips and much nodding, with many 'Yeah, for SURE's and 'I know!'s, and other statements declaring my agreement to your captivating story that I am only half-listening to, and a whole lot of strained silence that you so desperately attempt to puncture, my favourite parts of which are the times that we are stuck in traffic for a very long time, and you HAVE to comment on how bad the rush-hour jam is and delve into yet another utterly pointless story about your vehicle and gas prices and the weather and the ever-suffering economy, while I wait for you to busy yourself with something else so that I can return to my novel.
If I STILL fail at shaking you off, I will definitely send my comrades an electronic message with my cellular telephoning device, telling them how very annoyed I am and how I wish I had taken the later bus, while asking you to excuse me for my rudeness while I send a text message to my co-worker. And if you most unfortunately ask me politely prying questions about my employment, I will say "It's great, I really like it!" and ask you to excuse me once more, because I WILL go so far as to imagine that I have received a phone call, and converse with myself. Hopefully, at this point, you will realize that I am actively attempting to derail your mission to talk with me, because I will keep doing it until one of us departs. By the time this fiasco is completed, I will be so drained that I will wonder whether it was really worth trying so hard, and will feel pretty horrible for shunning your company so profusely, which will result in me feeling like a terrible person all day, but really, I will justify to myself, it is you to blame, because if I had successfully hidden myself well enough and avoided you, all of this never would have happened. So thank you for destroying my morning*.
I really do ask for you to pardon my behaviour, but you should really have gotten the gist of it when we made the initial eye contact and I quickly turned my head to look out the window at the fire hydrant that suddenly became a magnet for my retinas. Maybe, just maybe, next time we can talk on the weekend, or at a later time in the morning, or any other time except 7:06AM, when I have only started my day one hour previous, and need some time to adjust to the heat, the unwanted liquids on my skin, and a seat that is causing a considerable amount of pain to my backside.
*Please be advised that I do not mean this post to be directed at anyone specifically; this is an amalgamation of experiences, and, as much as I have ranted, I do like you.
hahaha, oh my dear sarah! It is 3pm and I was just about to leave work after doing my usual rounds of gmail/connect/blogspot when I came across this. It is so matter-of-fact, and actually made me giggle out loud uncontrollably. You've got a real knack for this ;)
ReplyDelete*follows*
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Loves it!!!!
ReplyDeletehahaha.. nice one sarah!!
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