Tales of the Fedora

2008.  Three years since I took this job.  This — trial? Torture? It’s not worth living that’s for sure.  I’m surrounded by morons and imbeciles.  A lobotomized chimpanzee preoccupied with flinging it’s own feces could run this company better.  It could certainly make more logical decisions.

Oh look another 180 case order for the bakery.  Their shelves are still full from the last time they ordered. Last week.  I haven’t even noticed any evidence that anyone from the bakery has even stepped into the freezer in the last week.

Idiots. Co-workers and customers alike.  They’re all idiots.  These people deserve to be put to sleep. They’re too stupid to live.

What’s wrong with you?

What?  Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m all right.

No. You’re not.

Well, yeah, people think “all right” means good.  All right means “all right”. It’s just a way to tell someone what they think they want to know, while telling them the truth.

So you’d rather tell the truth in some secret code?

They don’t want to know anyway.  Those few that do already know what I mean.  They’ve earned that right.

But what makes them different?

They have a positive integer I.Q.  These people I have to deal with every night are ignorance incarnate — they should all be destroyed. And if there ever were any justice, then I’d be the one to do it.  But just a normal nuclear holocaust would suffice.  Wipe out the dregs of the human race and leave those capable of managing their own lives.  Those not morbidly obese cruising around on their electric scooters.  Those not wantonly having kids with anyone that can get them drunk.  Those that are capable of doing the jobs they’re paid for.

They’re just people. You can’t expect a person to measure to some arbitrary guidelines. They have lives and histories that influence them in their behaviours.  Do you, yourself, measure up to the expectations of others?

Of course I do.  I’m better than them all.  I have common sense and rational reasoning. What kind of rationality leads someone to put this — this empty box of a feminine itch cream — in the freezer to hide the evidence of shoplifting?  Or this jar of spaghetti sauce left with the frozen waffles?  How about this package of hamburger meat? This cantaloupe?  What form of moron leaves these things in the freezer?  Or what kind of ignorant slob complains that something in the freezer is frozen?  Then asks, when I explain that it’s supposed to be frozen, “Is it still good?”  Idiots.

So you’re the expert on everything?

No. I admit I’m not perfect.  But I’m willing to admit it when I’m wrong, when I’m mistaken, and when I just don’t know.  I also know how to live my life economically.   I haven’t ruined my life through drugs or alcohol.  I don’t have several dozen kids.  I’m not on welfare.  I’m not morbidly obese.  I can speak and write complete sentences.  I have an intellect that should be what’s on the low end of normal … but instead I’m a genius compared to these losers.

You used to want to be superman.  To help people.  To save the day.  What happened?

Yeah.  People disappoint me.  They’re not shining bastions of possibility and potential.  They are instead just one step removed from chimpanzees in intellect.

Then how do you explain your friends?

What friends?  The two people who bother to think about me maybe once a week?

The people that think about you, want to help you, and value your existence — despite your faults.

I’m better off alone.

Are you?  All the time you spend alone.  The long, lonely, nights when you’re off of work and have no one to spend time with — the dreams of life in the light.

I don’t want to be alone, but I realize it’s better that way.  People don’t get hurt.

If there were some way out of this frozen prison.  To escape to a job I’d half-way like.  To pursue my dreams.  I had to turn down the last offer of help.  The schedule’s all wrong, the pay’s too little, and I don’t know if it’s a very secure job.

But if you asked, if you tried … you turned down a similar offer many years ago.  You’ve regretted that decision before.

That decision would have changed everything.  My focus on media production — the experiences with Trey and the others on the show.  Making movies, writing, the classes in college I took — all would never have happened.

And now you’re walking away from a similar opportunity to shape the future.  Every action changes the future, and now you’ve got goals.  Dreams.  You want to turn your back on that and leave them as just dreams?

No.  I can’t.  I do have to change; I can’t do it here, though.  How much of what I have become is due to this place?  This cold?  The absence of light?  I can do nothing without trying.  So I have to try.

I must at least try.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 31st, 2008 at 8:00 am and is filed under Season Five. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.