Shocking though this might be, I was told today that I am ‘weird’ and my general state of well-being was brought into question.
The problem appeared to stem from my sense of humour which, clearly, isn’t the sort of thing everyone comprehends. Dry, sardonic, cynical, dark, frequently veering into the surreal, the obscure and profoundly obvious, sporadically vulgar, breathtakingly vile, cruel and thoughtless when the need arises, and forever laced with misanthropic glee, it certainly isn’t palatable to all.
So when I was asked by the manager of my department at Big Box DIY to update my availability for the summer I included in it that I liked puppies. She stared at the note for some time and then glanced up at me through her tiny, thick glasses, eyes filled with confusion.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘I can’t work on the twelfth of June,’ I said. ‘It’s right there.’ I pointed.
‘No, I mean about the puppies.’
‘You asked about my availability. I figured I would include some of my likes and dislikes, in case you found my profile interesting.’
‘Or, you know, if you wanted to share it with some of the single women in the store.’
She paused. Then, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Here,’ I said after a second, taking the paper. ‘Just let’s cross that bit out then.’
‘You’re weird,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I know it’s only been a year that we’ve worked together and this is probably all coming as a bit of a shock to you.’
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
‘I just need the twelfth off. Let’s leave it that way.’
She shook her head, blinking rapidly. ‘Alright,’ she sighed and stuffed the paper into the back of the schedule book.
Always leave them wanting more. That is, if I recall correctly, the so-called First Rule of Show Business…