Janio’s Blog

It’s quite common to hear the expression “a drop of water”, meaning an event or fact that is tiny for itself, but its cost might be something really big, like splitting a relationship, quitting a job or even worse (I know about people who killed because a “drop of water”).

Yesterday I had water sprinkling all around. I might say my life changed, not because any epiphany, like Homer Simpson about to save Springfield, but because I felt all my limits overflowing, then I exploded (not like Peter Petrelli).

Early in the morning I was standing by the bus I take to go to the office everyday. Like everyday, it was late. Like everyday, I was pissed. Like everyday, I took the bus and sat with my headphones in the ears, trying not to think about the problem. But different from everyday I hear a comment from the bus driver: “it’s incredible; I never can pass straight away through this stop, the worst one in the entire city”. Man, you can’t imagine how much anger and fury a phrase like that can awake inside a human being! I spent almost thirty minutes of my life cursing against the driver, and suggesting him things he could do for living, if catching passengers on the street was not good enough for him, from pulling chariots to professionally tasting alfalfa.

Then, in the office, I just like everyday was annoyed with the crowded rooms, with the fact people don’t have a table to work on, and those who get early to the room take the better places, the late ones have to use the kitchen table, or beg for a space beside a coworker. I had to go to the kitchen with my laptop. My laptop, you got it? Mine. I had to buy it, because my employer doesn’t spend a dime with equipment. But this is not the drop of water, yet. Think of a place where twenty guys work together, and twelve girls. How many toilets do you think a place like that needs? Four, perhaps. But we have only two, one for them (girls), one for us. And they are not allowed to use ours, and we’re not allowed to use theirs. This results in queues in front of the doors, people with bladders and intestines in pain, in absolute need to attend to the call of nature.

Sorry, you are waiting for the drop of water.

Well, I had to go to the restroom, for a number two (I hope you know what a number two is, it would be another drop of water to have to explain). Of course I forgot to mention that the toilets have poor ventilation, and when someone has to play the artisan role (painting the porcelain), the atmosphere in the entire environment turns itself in something like mutant alien gases. When I left the restroom, people were acting like they had been victims of some poisoned gas attack, or something. I was the only one that could not laugh of the game, then I asked the boss permission to talk to him privately, and unloaded years of disgusting and disappointment with the company. He said: “what’s the matter? If you’re unhappy, you can quit right now”. And so I am, looking for a new employment.

Did I mention before it was a long day? Of course it would not end with a demission.

I got home, and my girlfriend was at the telephone. “This is Daisy, honey; she is telling me everything about her trip to Buenos Aires”. Every single day I get home and find her at the telephone. Every single day I get bothered, and swallow my anger. Every single day, but not yesterday. I went to our room, and picked the extension up. I was ready to ask Daisy if she had nothing better to do at the time of my dinner than distracting my woman. But instead of hearing Daisy’s voice, I heard a male speaking! He said “he will never realize, we will have a lot of fun”. Man, I didn’t beat my girlfriend because there was a drop not of water, but of sanity in my mind. But we discussed… Saying better, I cursed and sent her back to her mom’s house. “And never appear in front of me again, can you hear me?”.

This morning I woke up, opened the computer and found an e-mail from my brother in law saying:

You were not supposed to hear my sister and me at the telephone yesterday night; we were planning a surprise party for you, you bastard; now we’re going to use the money to pay for her depression treatment, instead of buying beers. I hope you are glad now. Happy birthday.

Bummer!

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