Monday, July 27, 2009

You Are Outside the Serving Area‏

Yes, I consider myself a capable and smart young adult. I say this not out of pride, but becasue I believe most people should feel confident in and of their own skin and should hold their head high when in public. This past week, however, I have found the anamolies to this theory. It has seemed that all of the world's strangest, wildest, dumbest, and mentally distrought humans have surfaced to float around on the top like curd for a while. I have very little hope for humanity after this week of communicating with the general population. I left a status update on Facebook the other day signaling my distress and my good friend John sent me a comment saying, "The more the people in this town hate you... The more that you should be assured you're a real human-being." To that, I say right on, John... Right on. Please, peek with me into the insane and vile mess of things our lovely population has beheld this week.

When you call on the phone, at least have a reason to call. If you don't have a reason, then leave me alone, leave all of us alone, because this is what normal people dub as annoying. Example: this week, it was my duty to partake in the reception duties of the law office I work for, a great and respectable law office with some collegues who I admire and respect I might add. However, the likens of the people who call with cases ranges from completely normal to downright insane and impossible. It is these crazy bandits who must tell me their entire life story and then some with a case we don't even handle. "Um, yeah, I got injured when my boss threw a paper in my direction and it gave me a papercut and I think I have a vitamin K deficiency from it so is there a way I can like make money off of that?" To that, I would like to respond, "Yes, money so you can afford the medication you should be on." Now don't think this is out of the ordinary. Granted, I have never actually had someone call about that specific incident, but one of these days, I am sure I will.

I always figure I am an edgy person, with specific ideas of my own and an edgy personality. Then I meet some of the people who walk in the firm and realize that I am nowhere near the edge; some people live in a cottage on the edge where they only go out in the day every once and a great while. At least they ground me and allow me to realize I'm not too insane. For instance, I begin my job the other morning answering the phones. Right off the block, first call of the day, was a person looking for someone who was unavailable. I tell them they aren't there. "Ah, well what's your name?" I tell them. "Kyle? Mmmnnmmm, Kyyyylllleee... Hmmmnnmmm... (heavy breathing)...click" Speechless. I have no idea what to say, and it only got crazier from there, trust me.

What about the naked psychic man? He was especially weird and strangley memorable. I usually don't like going into the locker room at the gym since most of the men in there are over 65 and usually naked. But, in order to swim laps, I have to walk through there and I do it much like walking through a mine-field: I close my eyes and run, hoping for the best. No dice this time, however. Here he comes strolling up, in his naked, awkward glory, and begins talking to me about how he could see into the heavens and witness dead people all the time. Of course, his nakedness only aided to his credibility. Then, walking over closer to me, much to my horror, he began, "peering into my aura," which I am proud to say is clean as whistle, apparently, and also reminds him of the 1983 Tampa Bay Buckaneers, a sad time in football indeed.

I don't make this stuff up, because if I could even conjure up half of the insane things I have had to deal with in my lifetime, I would be one troubled kid. Along with the rest of the working force of this beloved country, I wake up on Mondays and contemplate murdering all of the people with inane, retarted remarks made throughout the day. In it's original context, Monday literally means "day of the moon;" in Christian countries, it means "the day after the big game." But to me, Monday means, "run away, as fast as you can, because I might go postal." We all have these days, the days marked "BEWARE OF ME." Obviously, some people are just downright insane and have these days all the bloody time! I hold no grudges obviously....... Anyways, these times never cease to make us pull out our hair and make our spine cringe. As Phillipians 4 encourages, though, "Rejoice in the Lord always... because the Lord is near," which is the Biblical equivalent of, "5 o'clock is almost here and you can go home from a long day at work." You will only have to endure the crazies for just a tad longer. So hang in there, because I can garuntee two things:
1) I feel your pain; a man STANDING NEXT TO THE ENTRANCE just now asked me the way out of the office! The air vent you moron! Gah, they just don't stop, do they? Oh and...
2) The peace of God, which transends all understanding, will guards your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. -Phillipians 4:7

So here's to surviving the workweek, and the week in general. Lord knows we need it; they don't call it a concrete jungle for nothing. Sometimes, it feels like some of these mental patients come from the actual jungle. But, here's to getting through this thing with some sanity, because even if you only have one nerve left, just know that some people lit their nerve on fire a long time ago... you are ahead of the curve.

KB

No comments:

Post a Comment