Bad Day

Right at this point all I could think off is how bad the day has been for me. So bad that I could barely walk 5 feet without my nose sneezing my face off. So much so that people think I could actually be Rudolf incarnated, even though Christmas is still at least 2 months away.

I brace myself against the autumn breeze, walking with my right shielding my reddened nose, the other fumbling for another piece of tissue from my side pocket. Apart from the breeze I am also avoiding bumping into everybody’s shoulders; apparently I am the only odd one out trying to head uptown after office hours.

Everything is just out to go against me today.

My nose. My clients. My superiors. It is supposed to be payday too, but hell be frozen over before I can lay my hands on it. By law they are supposed to pay on the 10th every month, but it is tradition that employees will only receive them a week later, later backdated to the date on record. This means my utility bills are always settled a week later, at the risk of my utilities being discontinued or suspension of services.

Red lights. Great. Now I have to wait for the lights to turn, right at the streets. Trying to hold my breath so that I won’t need to breathe in anymore pollutants, a hippy just walk by and stand next to me, smoking. Annoyed but unable to do anything about it, I gradually shift my body further away. He seems to notice and took offence, for he had that offended look in his face.

Rough day, mate.

My nose decided that it would like to run today, maybe trying to get some decent exercise that I have been depriving it off. The medication that my doctor prescribed really did a good job, seriously lowering the tendency for my nose to go berserk when there’s a slight increase in the pollen count. The numbers today are supposed to be good, probably 1 or 2 index higher than usual, but my nose decided to revolt anyway. Sometimes I wonder would my nose problems persist if I have them surgical removed, but that won’t make me popular with the ladies I suppose.

I swiftly pick up my pace as the lights indicate that it is safe to cross the road. Within several strides I leave the disgruntled hippy with his smokes behind. I avoid the florist, taking a detour down another street, trying not to aggravate my nose. But this means I will have to walk past my landlord. My rent is already a month behind, but the real problem is that she is a really a nice lady. A church lady. I would feel better if she would yell at me, instead she will always say it’s alright honey, next time then…and then minutes later sends me some newly baked cookies. Too good a Samaritan can really put you to shame.

She might be out at this hour. Almost time for her bible-study.

I decide that I can risk bumping into her, but I quicken my pace, thinking that this would reduce the odds of getting myself into another uncomfortable meeting. To my relief her lights are out, with no sign of life in her unit. As I turn into the corner I slow down into a walk, and take the leisure to sneeze several times. The surrounding neighbourhood is already fairly lightened up, families gathering in their dining room sharing their warm meals. I am still struggling to get myself home.

“God is good. God so love the world He gave His only son…”

Yeah right. If God is really good, I can use some good massage for my aching body, hot warm chocolate for my nose right now. If it really isn’t trouble, God, I would like to have a couple of million so that I won’t need to work my ass off for just 10 quid per hour. A model for a wife is definitely a bonus.

“…died on the cross for the sins of many…”

I must say, that old preacher has guts. For the past 5 years he has been standing outside his church preaching to everybody that thread passed his sanctuary. Not even the snow or the scorching heat would stop him. The only time he isn’t out there in the pavement is during Christmas Service and Sundays, technically which he would be preaching, as usual, in his pulpit inside the building.

I continue to walk as his voice grows faint. I resolve to myself that I will never be able to comprehend how he can do this day in, day out for years. My admiration for his resolve and determination in his passion is often overshadowed by my distaste towards his efforts of trying to convince the public that God is Love. To be honest, I don’t understand how one can carry out their duties with conviction, less work with such red hot passion.

Fool. A fool for Christ.

Then my thoughts wandered as I walk up the stairs to my door, puffing a sigh to celebrate my safe arrival at my own door. Letters in my doorsteps remind me of the errands at work; all the copying, typing and stapling. Nothing interesting apart from returning calls and e-mails. All work and no play. Apparently I’m still on probation; crucial information and important documents are off-limits to me, even though I’m already in my second year working for them.

Why?? Why in the world would a probation period last for two years?? My grades in school weren’t great, average at best. It was through a friend’s friend that I managed to secure a good. Being a nobody with no real importance, they keep kicking me from department to department. While doing so they insist that I go through the stupid probation period, and every time I do so I would have to re-enter my details, again. Apparently they’ve loss all my records on their books during the transfer. This is probably the bloody fourth time I had to re-enter all my personal records. No wonder I never got promoted; I’m probably just another new “recruit” in their database, considering how I always have to wipe their assess for them again and again.

Seriously, what are you paying Bill Gates for?? Those shitty database programmes are supposed to make life easier, not the opposite.

So pay’s always late. Yet to graduate from probation. And now there’s a rumour circulating in the office. The Boss’ son, freshly graduated from Imperial, is set to take over the department. What is wrong with the world? A young'un, barely out of his college-ish attire is set to take over the department, bypassing a whole list of senior officers. Just because he’s the Boss’ son?

So? Shall we address you as Boss Jr.??

Wondering why others are born with a silver spoon and I leading such a wretched life, I slam the door shut, toss everything aside and just hop into bed without undressing. Too tired to properly clean myself or take a proper bite, I just lay on the bed recounting what a bad day I had. Not entirely sure whether it is a blessing or a curse to come back to an empty house, I think to myself. Some colleagues are lucky enough to be welcomed home; the others constantly have to deal with divorces, child custody fights or other family issues. But right now I really hope that I am not the only living presence in the house.

Deciding that enough is enough, I reach for my flu pills in the bedside drawer. Then I notice the sleeping pills laying just next to it. They say it’s almost a peaceful death, unless they managed to get you to the hospital in time. Getting your digestion system forcefully cleared of the substance is like burning your organs inside out. But yeah, one can pass on in peace, provided that nobody interferes….

…hastily jamming my mouth full, I force myself to swallow the medicine with a glass of water. Then slumping back onto the bed, I could feel my eyes getting heavy, my mind gradually sliding off into oblivion. I wonder if anybody would miss me if I’m gone. I suppose we can always tell. I need a rest, and thank God, if God really do exist…that finally I get to have some…decent break…from all this…shit.