If I’m late they’ll start without me. I don’t know why I even bother, they don’t like me anyway ( or at least management doesn’t like me). Maybe they didn’t like the fact that when they had made a mistake on my paycheck and I received hundreds of extra dollars to spend on my hair, or tickets to every concert I want to see or my dream vacation on a tropical island where all I have to do is either surf, relax or eat the best food I have ever tasted. But no, I gave that all up for honesty and told them about their little mistake.
I think I need coffee. ‘Pain is a state of mind’ I read as the headline of today’s news when I grab my coffee from the nearest cafe. I increase my pace to make it on time for the subway, which are, in my modest opinion, a little outdated. I mean, who wants to voluntarily sit in a metal worm that takes you from A to B, probably not even near to where you need to be, compressed with a bunch of strangers. And then you’re spit out at the other end of it as you try to squeeze your way through the crowd. And all of this is taking place in the darkness of the underground. A little creepy if you ask me. Yet, like so many others I do it every day. Enter the metal worm’s stomach.
‘I mean I had so much pain, I could barely breathe,’ says the lady who is sitting right across me to her red-bearded hipster friend, who is looking back at her as if he’s looking at a carton of milk in the supermarket. And suddenly this image creeps in my head where I had a mole removed and the anaesthetic wasn’t done properly. It felt like they were slicing a piece of ham. I get the shivers.
When daylight reaches me again and my cup of legally addictive stimulants to go has landed in the bin I try to cross the street with another crowd of people I will probably never see again. As I wait for the red light to give me permission to enter its zone someone gives me a shove and I leave the sidewalk and am thrown onto the street where cars are waging their own wars in rush hour. A big bus honks at me like a steamboat right before it nearly hits me. And as it passes by me with only a few inches between my nose and another piece of metal I read: Advil, relieve your pain. And I’m just glad I don’t have any. And yes, I’m late for work.
As I rush in I grab my card to swipe my way into labour slavery. Another machine called elevator taking me to a higher level. I run out, someone else rushes in, and a stream of hot hot hot coffee rushes down my left thigh like a river of lava. I want to scream, but I don’t. I want to cry, but my eyes stay dry. Instead I say: ‘that hurt. Please don’t touch me.’ ‘Can I get you anything? Dry towels? Maybe some Advil?’ asks the perpetrator and I shake no. Pain is only a state of mind I say to myself as I stumble down the hallway and I see my boss ticking on his clock with his chubby finger when he sees me. Great, there goes another job. Pain is only a state of mind.