(in case you didn't read the title, these stories are not real.)
I am on the phone at work. A new girl has joined us. It is her first day, and she is also on the phone. Things are a bit crazy as we re-organize ourselves. My boss decides that we need another phone, so she plugs one into the phone jack near my head. It is for an old school phone, with a long curly red cord that bunches up on itself. I lean my head to one side, as the cord passes directly through my neck-space. This irritates me.
I cover the receiver on the phone and state quietly, “It is hard to work with a phone cord going through my neck.”
“Well, then. You can quit your f---ing job,” she replies.
“Or,” I counter, “you can untangle the f---ing phone cord.” She untangles the phone cord, and I return to my call, a British man giving life advice that I accept as profoundly true because of his winsome accent.
It is some sort of school reunion. I am there with the girls from junior high. The popular trio, my best friend, and me. It is like we are twelve again and I need them to like me. After a particularly frustrating whispered exchange, they walk out of the seminar we’re attending. I follow them to the lobby.
“Hey!” I call out. They pause, looking over their shoulders. “I tried SO HARD to be your friend. What a waste of time. You never liked me and I am done trying.” Holding back tears, I turn around.
Back in my seat, I recount my boldness in a whisper to my best friend. She is surprised and a little bit afraid. Afraid, mostly, that they will reject her as well. Suddenly, the trio slides back into our row. The tallest blondest one looks at me with wide eyes.
“Whatever we did to you, Beth, we always considered you our friend.”
“Shh,” I respond, my eyes glued to the presentation, “Don’t be rude. If you want to talk about this, you can wait til we’re done here.” They slide out of their seats and head back to the lobby to wait for me.
I am on the phone at work. A new girl has joined us. It is her first day, and she is also on the phone. Things are a bit crazy as we re-organize ourselves. My boss decides that we need another phone, so she plugs one into the phone jack near my head. It is for an old school phone, with a long curly red cord that bunches up on itself. I lean my head to one side, as the cord passes directly through my neck-space. This irritates me.
I cover the receiver on the phone and state quietly, “It is hard to work with a phone cord going through my neck.”
“Well, then. You can quit your f---ing job,” she replies.
“Or,” I counter, “you can untangle the f---ing phone cord.” She untangles the phone cord, and I return to my call, a British man giving life advice that I accept as profoundly true because of his winsome accent.
It is some sort of school reunion. I am there with the girls from junior high. The popular trio, my best friend, and me. It is like we are twelve again and I need them to like me. After a particularly frustrating whispered exchange, they walk out of the seminar we’re attending. I follow them to the lobby.
“Hey!” I call out. They pause, looking over their shoulders. “I tried SO HARD to be your friend. What a waste of time. You never liked me and I am done trying.” Holding back tears, I turn around.
Back in my seat, I recount my boldness in a whisper to my best friend. She is surprised and a little bit afraid. Afraid, mostly, that they will reject her as well. Suddenly, the trio slides back into our row. The tallest blondest one looks at me with wide eyes.
“Whatever we did to you, Beth, we always considered you our friend.”
“Shh,” I respond, my eyes glued to the presentation, “Don’t be rude. If you want to talk about this, you can wait til we’re done here.” They slide out of their seats and head back to the lobby to wait for me.
My favourite parts are when you got sassy.
ReplyDeleteClassic Beth!
i did get sassy, didn't i? not sure if i am proud of that or not...
ReplyDeletei was going to give my perspective on the dreams, why i think they played out the way they did. but they're funnier without.
In the first dream, you are irritated at your boss and her apparent insensitivity. (I wonder how you are working if you are taking advice from a British man giving you advice -- sounds like a personal call, or spam perhaps)
ReplyDeleteIn the second, you are irrated at your former high school peers for their apparent insensitivity -- not reciprocating your desire for friendship.
In both cases you were overlooked and profoundly hurt. According to the Diagnostic Manual for the APP, I diagnose you with acute repression of the id syndrome due to an apparent sudden drop in temperature of 1 degree celcius in your former neo-natal state.
Do not be alaramed, this can be treated with psychotherapy, namely curling up into a fetal position with warm blankets for 20 minutes every week at your local psychotherapist.
Thanks, Doctor...
ReplyDeleteI like the sound of warm blankets. Less, the idea of weekly psychotherapy. Buuuuut, since you've said it will help.