Wednesday was Receptionist’s last day. Owner wouldn’t allow anyone to know other than Superhighway, Mr. Moneybags and me. On her final day, I sent Owner an email asking if I could say goodbye to her. He told me I could if I was careful not to let anyone else hear. I said goodbye with tears in my eyes.
Though she doesn’t know it, today is Crazy Employee’s last day. You know I’m very ambivalent about her. My therapist thinks she’s a sociopath; I believe she’s probably right. Nonetheless, I’m feeling sad. (I’m also trying to think of how I can be someplace else when Crazy is presented with her personal belongings already packed up and told to hit the road, jack.)
I complained, bewildered, to my therapist last week that it’s so unlike me to be so emotional about what happens here in Crazy Land. I make a concerted effort to keep people at arm’s length. I make a concerted effort to hide myself from them. It’s one of the things I’m very very good at–when at work, I’m in thinking mode. I inhabit a role familiar from childhood. I stand back and watch…then I tell you about the absurdity and humor. I do not emotionally participate.
Therapist told me that part of my transformational experience of breast cancer is that I have less control over the arm’s-length thing. She believes it’s a manifestation of my true nature. Well, damn. I don’t think I like this part of the transformation. Can’t I just return to the way I used to be?
The only people here today are Crazy, Loathsome, Foot Lady and me. It’s a silent office. The quiet makes my sadness loud.
