Mystic

Three weeks, that I suffer in this job.

Three weeks already.

This is hell.

You and I just got married. I want a baby. You too. I am not that young anymore, we have to decide quickly. Thus, I look for a proper job to pay for this operation. Job indemnities, maternity leaves and all that…

After weeks of prospecting (it’s hard to find a new job at 37), I finally find the right place. The perfect boss. I realize that this is not really honest but still, in 1993, in Switzerland, I don’t have any other choice but lie. No boss would hire me if I get to him and say : « Hi, I want a kid, you hire me, you pay me until I get pregnant and then you replace me for my 8 weeks maternity leave while paying me at the same time, etc. » See what I mean ?

I find my nesting place at an interior designer’s office.

It is the right-hand lady of the she-boss who hires me.

We immediately establish a very good contact.

It is a very charming lady, quite discrete.

This is a family business.

The husband is the big boss.

A big paternalistic teddy-bear.

He manages the art designers and the vendors.

Her spouse manages the administrative sector.

The problem, the killing detail is that they don’t have any computer. They never had any and they don’t want any because it frightens them.

And, besides, it would be expensive wouldn’t be ?

As for me, I am a wreck as a typewriter.

I make bunch of mistakes. I lose time. Worse than a beginner. I had told the she-boss’ acolyte that I doubted I could succeed with a typewriter, since I was used to computers… that it was certainly no winning ticket and that, one day, we will have to to switch to modernism ! And I immediately proposed to bring my own computer into the wedding basket… She wanted so hard to find somebody “suitable” that she answered : “maybe”…

And now every morning the same story’s on and on again. I start an estimation quote, I make a typing error, I get irritated, the anger rises… Imagine, they don’t even have any white corrector ! Because no one here ever makes typing mistakes !

To calm down, I go walking the dog sucking after my cigarette like mad. And I work overtime at night to compensate. My pet hate in fact, is the she-boss. At the beginning, I thought we would only be two working at the office : the other nice lady and I. Instead of that, we are almost always three. Because the other one’s always around. She doesn’t miss a single one of my failures. She’s constantly on my back and the more she supervises me, the more I sink. She is sharp, sarcastic, and contemptuous. Sometimes they’re the two of them : she calls her husband to show him my incompetence.

I’ve sold myself so well during my job interview that they don’t understand why I am so worthless for such the huge salary they pay me…

Where is the great America and my wonderful resume ? Where is the time I used to juggle with millions of dollars ? The time I bawled after the magnates I felt incapable ?

Sometimes I even doubt that it all existed once. And “they” who thought they made a good deal, find themselves with an inapt who does not even know how to use a typewriter !

Well, truly, it’s been more than twenty years now that I work with computers…

Then comes the day they start to hate me. Impossible to go turn it over. Thus, I offered, once more, to go and get my own computer. So that we could, at least, make a trial. But this is useless. They want me to be first able to do without it and then, only then, they might accept that I work with it ! ! ! Such a nonsense ! How can one be so stubborn ? It’s visible that those people never got out of their village !

Some evenings still, we are alone, my nice colleague and I, and we talk. Or more exactly, she talks. She tells, bits after bits, the story of this tough lady. Whose son just died of a cancer. At 33. She also tells me how this though lady just got out of the clutches of some so-called believers, who tried to take advantage on her fragility. She really understands, however, she did not gives me a single chance. And without going so far as to defend me, she sincerely pities me.

But these moments of peace are rare, and the rest of the time, I suffer from the situation.

One day, as a last chance, they finally allow me to bring my own computer. To make one test, did they say without meaning one word of what they said. Of course, just bringing it is not enough. For it to be effective, all the information have to be entered. It’s done once and for all, but it takes time. You have nothing for nothing. And I have little time to convince them that they made the right choice.

And it goes not fast enough for them.

They are disappointed once more.

Ma situation becomes untenable.

Then, it’s the rupture.

Dumb and rough.

What a waste !

I, who had a professional life so full.

Who had served so many people.

Being thrown up that way.

At 37 years old !

Already useless ! It really hurts.

What a reconsideration !

I’m having nightmares.

I have anxiety attacks.

What will I become ?

One night I have this dream.

My soul is wandering.

Locked in a bubble.

In the galactic vastness.

It is an absolute darkness among billions of stars.

My bubble moves in total silence, except, sometimes, for the wheezing caused by a flying comet.

I feel good, so good inside my bubble.

Suddenly, it’s the collusion.

With another bubble.

And, in this other bubble.

Another soul.

My tormentor !

And it is the inevitable clash.

Of our souls.

A meeting.

Worse.

A fusion.

During one femtosecond

(one billionth of one millionth of a second)

Paradoxically, an eternity.

I am her soul.

She is mine.

And I know.

And I perceive.

And I feel.

(deeply, oh, so deeply)

Her suffering.

Her distress.

Her grief.

Her madness.

The infinity of her sorrow.

As long as you haven’t walked into someone’s shoes, you don’t know anything about the way he/she feels.

It is so totally true !

A few days later, while my trial is ending, I am still shattered by this dream. Nevertheless, if my aversion has become compassion, it is still too late to turn back the clock. The lady saw and understood how a computer works. And she asks : « how comes the estimations came out so perfectly well and right today ? » But her pride, that “bloody” pride, will prevent her, once more, to reconsider her decision.

So, we close the door one last time, my helplessness and I, without a single word of farewell.

Sometimes,

When it’s too hard,

We must let God assume…