Missed Connections

Missed Connections: Chapter 23

Chapter 23

After that, I'm not hungry, but I stop at the store for some chocolate and wine. Supper of champions. The first thing I do when I get home is pour a giant glass and log on to talk to Blake.

Me: Am I a bad person?

Luckily he's online, and his reply comes right away.

Am I made of bananas and optimism?

Me: I'm being serious.

Him: Ah. I thought we were asking ridiculous questions. Now, what are you talking about?

I sigh and debate logging off. Blake knows me better than anyone, but he still doesn't really know me. I barely know me. What's the point of talking about it? Bad day at work.

Him: Hear me on this. You are absolutely NOT a bad person. Tell me what happened.

Where should I start? The smocks? But were the smocks what brought this on? Were they really all that bad? Because now that I think about it, not having to worry about my clothes making me stand out is a good thing. One less thing for them to criticize me about. And they seem to criticize me to make me a better person in the long term. They aren't really picking on me. I should focus less on the external and more on what I'm doing for the world.

Me: I guess I feel like maybe I've been too hard on them. Like maybe I'm the crazy one and they're basically kind people trying to make the world a better place.

Him: Okay, I'm going to need you to back up. Start at the beginning of the day. Leave out no details.

Me: Are you sure? Because there are some details of today that can't be unknown. You'll want to scream at the floor and then wash your brain with acid. Ugh! See?! I'm doing it again! I'm judging them and being a snarky bitch.

Him: You aren't. It's your frustration talking. Just tell me what happened.

So I take a deep breath, a deep swallow of sparkling wine, and start typing. Sticking to the facts and not adding any judgmental comments, I spill every awful detail of the day and add my reactions and why I think I was wrong. I backtrack and tell him about perception being reality and how tired I am of Ziggy telling me to "breathe into it" instead of doing anything about a situation. Blake doesn't interrupt at all, and when I've finished, there's no response, which makes me reach for more wine and chocolate. Is he disappointed in me too and trying to think of something to say? I can't take the suspense anymore, so I type another response before he's answered.

Me: Are you still there?

Him: Uh, yeah. Just stunned.

Me: See? I told you I'm a raging asshole and—

Him: YOU are NOT the asshole in this situation!

My fingers hover over the keys as I wait for him to finish typing. I don't want to feel like a jerk, but the bleak feeling weighing my shoulders and heart tell me that there's nothing he can say to make this better. The truth is, I'm a horrible person—but I don't want to feel like I am.

Him: The smocks suck. Uniforms are bullshit, and it's brutal that they went about it in such an underhanded, passive-aggressive way. If they wanted to implement uniforms, they should have just come right out and told you they wanted you to wear one. Acting like they were for everyone when they only want you to have one is just mean. Besides, you're gorgeous and could rock a paper bag, so the way you look isn't an issue if you're worried about that.