Today my alarm radio started playing at 6:26 am. That was not a coincidence; I set it at 6:26 am the night before. I got out of bed at 6:36 am. That also wasn’t a coincidence; I wanted to listen to the half past news and then waited for the digital clock to reach 36. I don’t have any special connection with the number 36, but I do like sixes.
At six past seven, 6:66 am as I always jokingly tell myself, I left my apartment. To make that happen I peed for two minutes, showered for six, brushed my teeth in two, took 16 minutes for my make-up and used three minutes to put on the clothes that I neatly arranged the night before: black Jimmy Choo’s topped by the double-faced Jersey Leggings and the detachable-collar jacket, whose satin collar I haven’t detached till date, from the Armani Collenzioni. One minute got lost in-between. I’m not neurotic, I’m efficient.
At 7:53 I entered my office, no sixes in there; although I can’t help thinking that five plus three is eight, and that eight and seven form 15, and that one and five do end up in six.
The meeting I’m in now commenced at 8 am. 45 minutes of torture already, and no end in sight. I was the last of five to enter the meeting room. My entrance clearly changed the atmosphere in the room. The three male participants, fat Jim, curly Pat and bald spot William, immediately rose up from their resting position and the only other lady in the room, half midget Aaliyah, greeted me with the normal dose of envy. I’m a natural beauty.
It’s 8:47 now and I’m almost ready to kill myself. This is one of the most useless meetings in my personal collection of meaningless meetings so far this year. I let myself be poured another cup of coffee by fat Jim who is sweating heavily. Jim is sitting on the right of me. He strangely lifts his arm while pouring. It’s almost as if he consciously chooses to do it in a way that makes him sweat even more. Jim is an advisor who’s hired to help us with the coordination of one of our new IT projects. Jim is fat in a way that is visually disturbing. The fact that he has been eying me since the moment that he was put on the project also makes it emotionally disturbing.
“Well, we have the board of directors that have their board meeting every Wednesday. And below that we have like six departments who also have their weekly meetings. So we don’t really need more than a simple structure,” bald spot William, he has a strangely formed bald spot just above his right ear, answers in the direction of fat Jim to a question that I missed because I was obsessively checking my smart phone.
“Yes I hear you,” Jim replies, “that sounds sufficient indeed.”
“Yes I think so too,” half midget Aaliyah, who is sitting right in front of me, replies even though none of us tried to involve her in the conversation.
“But we do have to think about the formal meetings that our department has.” Also curly Pat, who sits on my left, understands that he has to give a sort of useful contribution to the meeting.
“No,” I reply just to see if it would change the course of the conversation. The half midget looks up.
“Well, outside of those formal meeting the members can see for themselves if they want to do something extra of course,” curly Pat replies somewhat insecure.
It’s strange that even if you don’t follow anything people are saying around you, it’s still possible to influence the course a meeting takes. The last time I really listened to what people were saying in a meeting was around three years ago; two weeks after I started working here. I was still convinced then that intelligence could be useful within the work field. Now I know better. Quite sad actually, dreaming away in useless meetings is way more tiring then getting challenged and working your ass off. Half midget, bald spot, curly Pat and fat Jim continue their useless debate while I check the even more useless e-mails that are coming in on my phone. It’s just that I get paid so much, else I would have quitted the day I started.
“Okay, then I will ask Nico to deal with this. And then we can come together next week to see how everything is going along,” curly Pats words wake me up out of my concentration lag. It looks like the meeting is coming to an unsatisfying ending. Getting back together next week and giving Nico an assignment to do something. That guy hasn’t done anything in years. Before you know it I have to take things up.
“Sounds good,” answers fat Jim while trying to fix his comb over as if it would be something that is worth fixing.
“Yes, also sounds good to me,” half midget replies still trying to have some sort of importance in the meeting.
“So you will ask Nico?” Jim asks curly.
“Yes I will ask Nico,” curly replies. “That’s okay with you Jane?” he asks me already knowing the answer.
“Yes that’s okay with me,” I reply still thinking of a way to change the course we’re in. As impressed as they may be with my appearance, it’s not that I have anything more to say in anything than the rest here.
“Good,” Jim and Pat reply in chorus both with a face that almost looks like they think they really achieved something today.
“But I don’t know if this is really Nico’s cup of tea,” I continue in a last pursuit of getting it away from my plate.
“No, that could be a problem indeed,” bald spot William luckily agrees with me. Probably aware of the fact that it could also end up on his plate if Nico would screw up.
“Well we could also schedule an extra meeting with the five of us this week. We could then try to get a better overview of things,” Jim replies with a smile that clearly states he is realising that this gives him an extra opportunity to log some extra hours and stare at my tits at the same time.
“Sounds good,” William replies relieved.
“Yes it does actually sound like a better suggestion,” Aaliyah says, still pretending some sense of importance.
“Just to see you know,” Jim tries in my direction.
“Yes,” I reply trying to hide my growing frustration.
“Because at this moment it is still possible to intervene, to take action; to turn the tide so to speak. Now you can still restore things. A quick fixer upper. Not that you would find something in like say ten years later when it’s all settled,” Jim continues.
“Ten years later?” I ask clearly irritated. What the fuck does he mean with ten years later? Does he have any idea at all about the scope of projects like this? So he’s not only fat and ugly, he’s also stupid. Why do people like him exist anyway? Why don’t they just commit suicide?
“Yeah well, or one year; ten months or so,” he tries again.
“Okay,” I reply, seeing no use in further embarrassing him.
“Based on the consultations you had earlier. It does feel that some extra time is needed, doesn’t it?” Aaliyah asks as if she knows anything about Jim’s earlier consultations.
“I think so,” Jim answers sort of in doubt, “we haven’t found anything yet to worry about. But still. Always better to take some extra time isn’t it? Better safe than sorry.”
“Yes, and with Christmas coming up,” I hear Aaliyah say.
“Christmas? It’s spring for fucks sake! Are you mixing up Christmas with your half-baked Ramadan?” I yell out before I’m well aware. How does her stupid brain work? As if it’s not terrible enough that her legs are too short for her body.
“Yeah but still,” Aaliyah replies in shock because of my sudden outburst.
“Well, it is coming up eventually,” bald spot tries to straighten things with an as useless as stupid remark.
Why do I do this to myself!? Why do I work with people who are so stupid? Why do I sit in the same room as people who are so irritatingly ugly? How is it possible that they see themselves as my equals?
I reach down in my purse and take out the knife that I took with me in case I would have to defend myself. “Okay you fucking nitwits! Look at this knife,” I shout out to the four people who really have no idea about what is coming.
“Jane,” Aaliyah tries, already in a clear state of shock.
“Shut up you failed midget!” I continue with my voice raised to an impressive volume. “If I would use this knife to cut myself in front of the four of you, if I would cut my wrists in this room with the four of you, would it still count as an attempted suicide? Or would it just be an act of craziness?”
The four look at me with an intense fear. I put the knife on my soft skin and start cutting my left wrist. Pain shoots like a burning fire through my body. Fucking hell, this is really painful. I let go when the blood starts oozing. And in the moment that Aaliyah faints my blood starts squirting all over my colleagues. I laugh loudly while I hear Jim shriek like a little pig.
“I’m feeling dizzy,” I softly announce while standing up. Scared eyes are focussed in my direction. My focus shifts. I’m falling. It all turns black.