Next in line

I can sense something is not quite right. I look around and catch a glimpse of Donnie Darko wearing his infamous hooded top, lurking behind the crowd. He has a curious expression on his face. Then all of a sudden I see him push his way through the crowd and run toward me and as I get a better look at his face I realise that it’s not actually a look of curiosity, but hatred. Like he can’t wait to get his hands on me and rip my heart out. So it was quite an error judgement really. My whole life flashes in front of me. It all happened very quickly, mainly because I have lived a pretty uneventful life. Just as well, since I was frozen on the spot and Donnie was gaining ground on me pretty quickly.

When I gained my senses, I started to run but I knew it was too late. My whole life had already flashed in front of me which meant that death was imminent. I felt a sharp pain in my back, probably a knife wound, as I let out a scream and fell to the floor. I felt someone tap my shoulder. I looked around to see an old lady with a concerned look on her face. I was standing in the middle of a long queue in a dark, morbid room. I must have been day dreaming. How long have I been in this queue? Long enough for me not to remember what I’m here for. More importantly, where am I?

I explain to the nice old lady behind me that I had injured my knee in an accident and the splitting pain had made me scream. I assure her that I am not a terrorist and pretend to limp my way forward in the queue. I look around and I can see a red sign at the end of the room but it’s too dark and I can’t quite make out what it says. I turn around once more and ask the nice old lady where we are, explaining that the splitting pain in my knee is affecting my short term memory. She seems to believe me and informs me that we are in the post office and the dark and gloomy atmosphere all makes sense. The place is so depressing that you could hardly blame someone for wanting to commit suicide here. But nonetheless, I once again assure the nice old lady that there is nothing to worry about and that I am here for a reason, which for the moment completely escapes me.

As I limp forward to the front of the queue, I start to panic as I still can’t remember what I’m doing here. You spend your whole life waiting in queues and each person ahead of you seems to take an eternity. Today, an eternity doesn’t seem long enough. Once again I feel someone tap my shoulder and I realise that I’m next in line and that the miserable looking woman behind the dark glass is finally ready to serve me. I ask the nice old lady behind me if she would like to go ahead in front of me and she seems so grateful, I feel she is about to hug me. Fortunately, she doesn’t and moves up to the counter.

Relieved, I check my coat and trouser pockets in search of a clue but the next thing I know the old lady is leaving the post office and I’m next in line again. Reluctantly, I approach the counter, trying desperately to remember the reason for my visit to this anaemic place. Then giving up, I try to make something up, anything to make me look like I know what I’m doing. But nothing. My mind’s a blank. I feel like a child that wanders into a movie and is completely out of his depth.

“Good Morning” I say to the miserable woman. I’m not one for ‘small talk’ but I was desperate and willing to try anything to delay the embarrassment and admit to the ultimate sin, ‘ignorance’. To be honest there was nothing really to be embarrassed about. I’m pretty shameless but to claim ignorance to a post office clerk was unacceptable. Some random person on the streets of London could stop me and ask for directions to a place I’ve never heard of, but I will still try to make something up because as far as I’m concerned, I know everything and I’m not going to let anything let you think otherwise.

Buddha once said “all that we are is the result of what we have thought”. That’s what I’m doing. In my mind and in all my actions, I’m showing people that I know everything. And pretty soon that is what I will become. The ‘man who knows everything’. So I guess you could call me a Buddhist although I’m not too keen on spirituality and orange dresses.

I’ve always wanted to be a psychiatrist, getting paid to listen to a bunch of lunatics. I don’t think it would ever work though, mainly because I can’t see myself keeping a straight face when some guy called Lenny is pouring his heart out to me and telling me that his wife, Beatrix, has run away with the milkman. And I’m not a good listener because I always get sidetracked and lose my train of though. Like now. You’re probably wondering ‘What the hell happened in the post office?’. Well, I couldn’t remember or think of anything sensible to say to the miserable looking woman behind the counter, so I did what any man would have done in my situation. I asked her out.

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The 7am alarm had just woken me up with its usual enthusiasm, although I couldn’t motivate myself to get out of bed. Half asleep, I managed to swing my arm out of the blanket and find the snooze button. I’m pretty sure the devil came up with the idea of a snooze button. It must be a funny sight, watching us suddenly wake up to the crow of a technological rooster and clumsily swing our arm around, making a complete mess of the room while we desperatly try to find the snooze button. Then 9 minutes later, watch it happen all over again. It’s just cruel.

My favourite moment in life is when I wake up in the middle of the night and frantically look across at the clock to see if it’s time to get up and realise that it’s 4 in the morning and I have another three hours of blissful sleep. On the other hand, waking up at ten minutes to 7 just ruins my day.

I finally gave up on the snooze button at 7:54am and decided it was time to get up and get ready for work. I hate my job but it pays the rent and since I love my bed more than I hate my job, I keep working. I know a lot of people who aren’t happy with their jobs but I really hate it. I think the only thing worse than a post office clerk is a traffic warden.

I got in at half past nine and I could feel my manager staring at me as I walked towards my desk. I could have gone over, apologised and made up an excuse as I was pretty sure my manager wouldn’t appreciate my interpretation on the callousness of the snooze button. But I decided to leave the govelling for later. The post office was really busy for some reason so I got to work straight away. My first customer was this nice old lady who seemed really happy to be there and was probably wondering why I didn’t share her enthusiasm. What happened next was probably the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.

This man approached my counter and once he stood there, he didn’t say anything. I asked if I could help but all he said was ‘Good morning’ and then just stared at me with a blank expression on his face. Just as I was about to lose my patience with him, he asked if I would like to go out for dinner with him. He wasn’t the prettiest looking bloke in the world and he may well have been a serial killer or a traffic warden, but I was flattered that he had spent all this time waiting in the queue to come and speak to me. I knew I was going to regret it later, but I said yes.

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I can’t believe she said yes. I was sitting in the car, not sure whether to turn it around and head home or to face this mess I had got myself into. It’s 7:51pm and I’ve got another nine minutes to kill before I need to go in and meet Marisa. I’ve been waiting in the car for the last fifteen minutes and I saw her, from a distance, walk in a little while ago. I decided to stay put because I don’t want to go in early and look too eager. Clearly, she wasn’t too bothered about looking too eager. In fact, given what I saw in the dark gloomy atmosphere of the post office, I was tempted to go in late and leave a bad impression as I had no intention of taking this any further. I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t you just leave? Go home. I couldn’t. When I make a commitment to someone, I always turn up. I never let them down. Even if she is hideous.

The other thing keeping me from leaving is the name, Marisa. I love that name. You may have thought that the most important quality a guy would look for in a girl is good looks. Not me. I’m far too superficial. I could spend the rest of my life with a porker but not with someone called Donita. Donita, can you pass me the salt? Donita, have you seen my blue shirt? Donita, come to bed. Nope, I couldn’t do it.
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I left work at six and since it was too much effort to go home and come back into central London, I decided to go to the book shop before my date. I had just been there a couple of days ago so I got bored after a while and ended up going to the restaurant 25 minutes early. I thought I might as well sit down and have a drink while I wait for Art. I like the name, Art. It’s got a ring to it. Art, can you please pass me the salt? Art, do you think my ass looks big in this? Art, come to bed. Yep, I could get used to this. Just a shame Art’s a bit of a fatty.
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