I get on the train at half past 7, having spent an hour trying to figure out what the fuck to wear-I have a series of meetings which will undoubtedly piss me off and in which I must appear in charge, but not too girlish. ItÂ’s a long story. I am exhausted from the moment the alarm clock goes off, an exhaustion which will see me through the rest of my day.

When I get on the train, for perhaps the first time in my life, I sleep for the entire journey sandwiched between fellow businessmen also sleeping. We are a train of Nod. I hate it.

When I get to London I opt for walking to the office, as I think I need the exercise, as I canÂ’t face the hordes of people waiting for the tubes. I walk over the Thames, I walk into a Starbucks, I walk towards the destination.

And then the office.

I used to have a Speak & Spell and a Speak & Math. I loved those things, I used them constantly. I remember specifically on the Speak & Math there was a game called “Greater Than/Less Than”, in which you had to identify which side of the equation was the big boy using the greater than/less than marks. I remember the voice of the electronics coming on saying: “Greater than less than….level 1.”

I heard it all day.

First meeting I walked in to, the resounding words in my head were “Greater than less than….level 1.”

The meeting did not go well.

I walked out hearing the Speak & Math admonish: “That’s incorrect. Your score is 0.”

I bought more coffee and made my way into my next meeting.

The next meeting goes better but circling me the entire time are the Greater Than Less Than men I failed to beat. They smile. I smile back. I pretend like they are gumdrops stuck on the side of a gingerbread house. It doesnÂ’t help.

More coffee. Next meeting. This one drags on and on and on. I find my phone hasnÂ’t been delivering messages to me. There is tension between us (maybe that time of the year. Certainly that time of the month). My other boss is wondering why he hasnÂ’t heard from me in two days. My other boss can go fuck himself.

I buy more coffee. I am barely awake and certainly barely functioning. I fall asleep standing up in the elevator between the ground floor and the 8th floor. I miss my stop.

Finally I am done. I have been in many meetings. I have had over 7 cups of coffee. I am so tired I could cry but instead I walk across the bridge in the London darkness to look at the Christmas lights on the banks of the Thames. I am not alone in this, there are many couples laughing and holding hands and kissing. Somehow they annoy me, and I feel ashamed at being annoyed.

I cannot believe how low I am by work.

I am surrounded by Christmas lights that I love but theyÂ’re not getting through. My Christmas cheer is not easily held on to. My Christmas cheer comes and goes, itÂ’s a viral cheer, a 24-hour thing. I get up by a Christmas tree. I go down with an argument. I recover with Rudolph-scented soup. I lose the cheer when I trip and fall over office politics.

Maybe if I get some sleep itÂ’ll all make sense.

But today not even my precious Elf appeals. I am worn out. I want Christmas break to be here. I want things to be easy, but then IÂ’m an asshole who never learns that they never are.

I ride the train home next to Boozy Claus, and I get a bit drunk off his fumes.

-H.

PS-the good news is I don’t have to go to Upper Buttfuck for a while. Upper Buttfuck-which has a “telecom alley” that hosts branches of all of the telecom companies in the UK-is this place (and I am not the cashier Helen mentioned in the article). Upper Buttfuck. No joke.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:39 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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