The Nut House

I was at the (name of organisation) today. It was a lovely walk there in the fresh morning air, past the park with its tall trees waving their branches in the air. The day seemed to sparkle.

The receptionist made a point of telling me that she was really the female security rather than the girly role of the receptionist, with out me asking or caring.

“I'm not the receptionist, the real one is stuck in traffic, hon," she said sounding more like a truck driver than anything else.

Lesbian, I thought. She said that I had just asked for the person who I was replacing and that someone else would be down shortly to see me.

Soon someone named Benny turned up. He seemed to be a special needs person, who was loud and talked and talked and talked. Blah, blah, blah, blah. My ears were in danger of bleeding by the time we got to the office.

“Here’s where you’ll be working.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Benny proceeded to pull all of my work together for me.

“Here’s what I’ve pulled together for you so far.” He handed me a fistful of papers.

“Are there any procedures? Instructions?”

“The boss, who knows about it all will be in soon?”

It all looked pretty straightforward, so I got on with it.

 The boss wandered in eventually. And I didn’t get there until 10am. When the boss finally got there, she rearranged everything I was doing, telling me about all the paperwork Benny had forgotten to mention.

Yay! Go to love that.

Later, I found Benny had a habit of questioning the boss loudly and forcefully, like an idiot would. She’d tell him to shut up just for a minute. It was like continual flare ups all day.

The boss giggled like a thirteen year old for long periods of time into the phone, speaking another language. She kept telling us how over worked she was and how tired she had become, like all managers seem to do now a days. Everyone has to be over worked, otherwise you are just not playing the 21^st century work ethic game properly.

The cleaner came through half way through the day. The boss made some comment to the cleaner, “That is why we are both chubby.”

This seemed to give the cleaner permission to start. “She only ever ate healthy things, all good stuff, no crap, but she still got fat.”

Then she proceeded to regale us with her dietary stories, loudly and in detail. At one point she announced, “I only have to look at food and I put on weight.”

She was still talking and telling stories as she backed down the stairs and out the front door.

The other girl in the office had a constant surprised look on her face, like bunny in the headlights. She looked as though she was continually on the brink of bursting into laughter, but never did. She always just looked that slightest bit “touched.” She’d make heavy breathing kinds of noises after any a response she gave me to whatever it was that I had asked her.

So, you can understand what I mean when I say that it felt like I was working in a sheltered workshop for the day. Benny yelling loudly and violently in disagreement to some discussion on the phone... the boss giggling like a 13 year old girl to a friend down the receiver... the cleaner backing down the staircase still giving dietary advice... and muttly to my left, wide-eyed, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant.

I walked home in the golden afternoon sun, down streets line with elegant terrace houses.