malprava

Chris’s last days at his day job were slow, but pleasant after a fashion. That is, if one ignores his impatience for the work day to draw to a close.

First his cardiologist reached out to tell him that he ha a possible blockage which will require a catheterization and, potentially, a stent. Chris agreed, but began fussing over his health and the proximity of death. His procedure will happen on Friday the 30th of August.

Second, Chris came to the conclusion he was completely wrong in his perspective of co-workers and how the company handled him leaving for another job. Wound up that Chris let the cat out of the bag at 4:20 p.m., everyone was shocked about his departure and a little sad upon hearing the news. He was invited to spend a couple minutes outside after work talking with his co-workers about what lies ahead for him. Chris cracked, “Smoking what?” to Danielle, who conveyed it to Steph, who figured she would be able to accomodate him.

Chris was in a hurry as there was going to be dinner at Klee’s happening around 7:00 p.m. and he didn’t want to miss out. He left quicker than he should’ve, and Steph joked that if he hung around she would’ve given him a joint.

On Friday, Chris learned why he’s paranoid and a bit of a narcissist. Through Steph, he invited co-workers to join him at Quaker Steak in Brick. Lilly, Steph, Chas, Steph, and Mitch showed up. Mitch’s appearance was a shock since he comes across as not being arsed to do anything social with people who aren’t immediately important to him.

As the evening went on, Mitch brought up he’s the reason why nobody knew about Chris’s departure until the last minute. Joe forgot to mention it because Joe was trying to get Mitch to submit an acceptable new title that wasn’t “Head Nigger In Charge”. So without a new title, Joe spaced out. No big secret. No shame in Chris’s departure.

Steph delivered with the joint. She reached to my right shoulder to brush away a crumb or a stray hair. To Chris, this is a very intimate and affectionate gesture. In that moment Chris realized that he was wrong about being paranoid and thinking everyone was out to get him.

All in all, it was a good night. He thinks Quaker Steak fucked up his dinner but who cares. Right now Chris needs to focus on the new job, and mentally prepare himself for getting catheterized on Friday morning.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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