Wednesday, July 21, 2004

May That Never Be Me

Today. The Office. My officemate, who is soon but not quite so soon as ones dreams may desire to switch offices (all the way across the hall!) and another co-worker. Two men, we'll go with late-40s types. Staring, blankly, at the abandoned but still furnitured office. Wondering how this move would take place. And staring blankly. Everything aside from common sense (that is, workplace regulations, 'the way it's always done,' and personal timidity) said call the movers and wait. But they couldn't get that nagging little voice telling them to be freaking useful out of the room. So they tossed the stack of Wall Street Journals and the other stack of Wall Street Journals (in the fire marshal's report, these would be Fire Hazard #1 and Fire Hazard #2) in the trash- no small feat considering the stacks were as tall as a point guard-, shifted some other papers, and went back to looking perplexed. Sighing. And each leaving it up to the other ("If you think we should, I'm for it. But I'm not making the call.") until the co-worker pulled rank on my officemate. After which point, the tears (of hilarity and dismay, comingling) blur my memory.

Except for this one thing. A gasp which escaped my lips. May That Never Be Me. While I certainly hope to avoid passing my days as Befuddled Urban Male, I think I could endure (with the aid and comfort of a good, nay saintly, woman). But Useless Guy- small, shrunken, afraid to do what he knows he must- that would be unbearable under any circumstance. Life without your verve, I shudder to think. Maybe I should ask my officemate how he copes. I don't imagine he'd mind... at least not in any effective way. May That Never Be Me.


Post a Comment

<< Home