The locker incident.

I haven’t a clue why, but today I am totally wiped-out. So much so that I’ve already had a disco nap and it’s not even 1 pm yet. Hooray for me. The only reason I can think of for such fatigue is that the medication I’m now on is, after four weeks, finally starting to show some effect. Either that or dealing with the general public and reality is no longer gnawing but now chomping away at my soul.

My life is one continuous cosmic farce. A serious of small inconveniences that are incubated and then released simultaneously, one after another, until I eventually screech to a jittering halt and proceed to have a meltdown. Much like last night. After finishing work, I was offered a lift. Which was fantastic news as it meant I didn’t have to lurk about a bus stop for an hour. So I went to my locker to gather my possessions only to realise, much to my dismay, that it was locked. A problem easily fixed for many; just get your key out, put it in and presto, but no, not for me. Why? Because my locker key was in fact inside my locker. Due to a miscommunication between my locker-mate and myself, I was now stranded at work without my wallet, keys, money and soon dignity.

At first I tried to tackle this problem with elegance and grace; I tried not to catapult into a blind panic. Fast forward twelve-and-a-half minutes and I’scurrying around the internet, making pit stops at Google and YouTube, hunting for tutorials on how to pick locks with paperclips. Ramming them into the keyhole, one failed attempt after another. Foaming at the mouth, shouting indefensibly hideous things about everyone on Earth. The other team members were looking at me with undiluted fear. As if I was some sort of unhinged marionette that was being jerked about by despair. Eventually, after someone from night shift came in and found a spare master key, I got my belongings and bolted for the bus. Well done, Universe. Fucking hats off to you, yet again. You never-ending prick.

My palpable vulnerability is probably very blatant (and humorous) to others, but I try very hard to not let it show. I try to dawn a smile and portray a sense of togetherness. I don’t like looking weak, or unhinged, but quite often when something disruptive happens my brain goes into over drive and starts spinning like a loose, whirring wheel. My ability to turn any minor hiccup into a cataclysmic event is unmatched. I need to learn to handle situations better rather than exploding. Otherwise people will glare at me terrified; as if I’m a sort of self-loathing dirty bomb ready to go off.

  One thought on “The locker incident.

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