Wednesday, 9 September 2009

Deleted (I wish) Scene from the Office

Picture this: ME standing at main photocopier in school office with PA to head.
(the parts marked with a * are inner thoughts which weren’t actually voiced at the time)

PA: I hope you don’t mind me asking but have you put on some weight?
ME: (RABBIT CAUGHT IN HEADLIGHTS) (*actually yes I do mind so please don’t say what you’ve just said in case it offends the fu*k out of super-sensitive, creative-writer-type me) Pardon?
PA: Have you?
ME: Well, probably, I don’t know, we don’t have scales at home and I did spend the best part of the school holidays WRITING A BOOK (*can we please change the subject?)
PA: No exercise then?
ME: Um. No. (*Pretty much sat down for the whole writing book thing. I prefer that position, I find typing a little hard-going when I’m performing cardio-vascular movements in a leotard)
PA: Oh I’m not saying you look fat…
ME: No? (*so why the f**k say anything at all then, you heartless excuse for a human being, don’t you realise I could go home and slash my wrists over a comment like this, especially if I were the super-sensitive, creative writer-type… ah…)
PA: No, not fat – you just look more “solid” that’s all.
ME: (COLD-SWEATING) Solid? (*isn’t that another name for a lump of sh*t?)
PA: (NOT A SPADE IN SIGHT) How old are you now?
ME: (*why don’t you check on my personal file if you’re so bloody concerned about my age and my weight?) Forty-bleurgh.
PA: Ah, you’re getting to that dangerous age where you could start to pile it on and never get rid of it if you don’t start to watch out.
ME: (FISH IN BOWL) I don’t like diets, I hate being hungry and I never exercise – it doesn’t agree with me. (*plus do you remember I was crippled with pain even when walking until a few months ago, you heartless, heartless cow)
PA: Have you thought about dancing classes?
ME: (*leave me alone now, you’ve said enough, I just want to get my photocopying and disappear into the bowels of the earth, maybe lower and cry myself into an early grave) No.
PA: You still look lovely for your age, though. You’d never think you were forty-bleurgh…lovely skin.
ME: Yeah, thanks.

Depressed? Me?
(I've never wanted to feel less solid in my entire life)

4 comments:

The Pineapple Tart said...

I wish I could pass on the phone number of a hit man, except I don't know any.

Deborah Riccio said...

Ah, that's v. kind of you, Anne, but I do happen to know someone who knows someone - or rather, DID once upon a time - but I can rise above this... I can rise above this... I can...

Keris said...

WTF is wrong with people?! I'm so sorry you have to work with such a cow.

Deborah Riccio said...

Keris, bless you - thanks. Must admit it's hard shovelling the bran flakes down of a morning now...might have done me a favour?