Normality

It is one of life’s little mysteries, or perhaps even a great one; that for all my distrust and hatred of the bulk of the white collar workforce, I am unfortunately naturally proficient at everything they hold in high regard.

Today I was informed by a grinning dolt that I had exceeded the department’s all time quality score. Oh, such joy. That is sure to erase the self-loathing that plagues me at night.

Minutes after learning of my momentous achievement for humanity, I was notified by the boy that sits next to me that I had received a complaint. This gave me much more joy, even if the chap apparently couldn’t quite specify what it was that I had done to displease him so. Perhaps he was able to detect my pretending to stab myself in the throat with a biro from the other end of the phone line.

As adept as I am at the technical elements of these jobs, and as impressive as my feigned sincerity towards clients is, I have accepted that I shall never really fit in with my colleagues. Not in the way that they do, with their crude discussions, stupid interests and occasional high fives.

I approached a co-worker at the water cooler today, interested to see if a conversation of that variety really was possible.

“So, that show on the television was good last night, wasn’t it?”

She regarded me with an obvious mixture of confusion and repulsion before replying.

“What show?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a television.”

By this stage, her cup was full, and she beat a hasty retreat. A wise move, really. I shall revert to spending my tea breaks in the toilet.