“When anybody asks, 'What are you writing about now?' if I try to reply, the book-in-the-works sounds so idiotic to me that I think, 'Why am I trying to write that puerile junk?' So now I give up; if I could talk about it, I wouldn't have to write it."
- Madeleine L'Engle, A Circle of Quiet


Proof Positive That I've Lost It (Whatever "It" Is)

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Yesterday, I was confronted with a startling revelation.

I am truly insane. I know, I've joked about it before, but this time I have solid proof!

It all started when I realized that every time I hung up the phone, I would start talking to myself. I would say things like, "Oh dear lord you have got to stop running!" (spoken to my nose, which is part of me and therefore qualifies as talking to myself), or "Oh, my head hurts and I really need a nap."

Now, on a normal day I do tend to talk to myself after phone calls, but there is a subtle difference, so I never noticed it before. See, I work in an office with one co-worker who is also a temp like me. (Let's call her CW from here on, shall we?) Actually it's more of a small conference room where they tossed a couple of old rickety metal desks (mine actually has a hole in it's fake wooden top – you could drop a pencil through and it would land in the drawer below!) and a couple of broken office chairs (mine slowly sinks throughout the day until, by noon, I'm almost sitting on the floor at which point I raise it up and start the process all over again) and then sent us with our few meager belongings when they needed the cubical space for "real" employees.

After a phone call, I might make a comment about the utter incompetence of the agent I just trained, or the utter incompetence of the tech I just spoke with, or (oftentimes) my own utter incompetence. There's a lot of utter incompetence around my office. CW makes similar comments after her phone calls and we joke about how we sit around and talk to ourselves, but I know the truth.

The truth is, we're not really talking to ourselves. We're actually, secretly hoping that the other will hear us and want to know more. Then we can proceed to elaborate on the utter incompetence of various people. This usually leads to more pleasant conversations about gardening or eating or books – things we actually care to talk about.

The difference today was that she was not there. This means I was not speaking with the intention of being heard. There was no one to hear me and strike up a conversation. No, it was just me. I was sitting in a small room, by myself, complaining about my own discomfort.

See? I told you. Insane.

Then, after all of this, I had that startling revelation. I turned to my right and noticed that the wall next to me was padded. Yes, it is actually covered in fabric...padded, I tell you. I work in a small room with neutral colored walls which are padded.

So, this is the conclusion I have come to. The place I go every day is not actually an office. It is an elaborate scheme to get me to, special place for people like me...with padded walls. See, my husband isn't home during the day, being at work and all, so he needed someplace for me to go during the day – someplace safe. I was duped into thinking this place was a place of business, but it's not.

I spend my days in a padded cell.

And if you don't believe I'm insane on grounds of the talking to myself and the padded walls, just go back and read this post again. I think you'll understand. Yes, I am a bit crazy.


At 2/15/2006 8:36 AM, Blogger Jeana wrote:

Hey, I'm right there with you! I wrote about this in my True Confessions post.

BTW, I just tagged you for a Valentine meme.

At 2/15/2006 8:57 AM, Blogger Kristi wrote:

I'll tell you this: cubes are specifically designed to make people go insane. So you have lots and lots of company, me included.

At 2/15/2006 5:51 PM, Anonymous HolyMama! wrote:

Ok, the walls are padded. But the desk with the drop through pencil hole must make up for it! That's just cool!

At 2/15/2006 8:31 PM, Anonymous Donna wrote:

Happy Bunny is my hero...I talk to myself because I'm the only one that makes any sense in this place. Um, o.k., me crazy!


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