Listening was all I had after one year of attempted harmonious work with my so-called colleague. Listening, not talking or asking careful questions but listening since that is what I’d been reduced to after more than one harsh encounter with my passive-aggressive colleague.

Although some time had passed and many events had since transpired, I can still recall with clarity, my first realisation of my colleague’s total insanity. Hidden, by a mask of deceit, lies and profound stories.

As the hot winds gathered dust, only visible over a distance, and dispersed this ancient sediment into a meandering creek-bed, I decided to retire from my links game. I remember being quite content with my score of two on the par three, fourth hole. My game had seen much improvement after consultation with ‘The Pro’, considerable patience, and effort.

I entered my building and, positioned at my desk began to labour on the remaining tasks of the day. It was not long after, that I was greeted with the pompous gait of this colleague, as the person negotiated the corridor, glanced around nervously, and then settled into a chair. It was not so much the speech, but the visual actions which suggested a very deep and concerning problem indeed. Perhaps it was that this individual was wearing corrective glasses upside-down or was seemingly mesmerised by the computer’s screen-saver. It suggested a state of extreme inactivity in the cerebral cortex possibly exacerbated by neural degeneration. Somewhat slumbered myself, by the sight of this atrophied body, I recall being pleasantly surprised at the loud crack of a stock-whip, as it tore into the hide of my colleague. This was the experience of one afternoon and all I was capable of, was listening to that resounding crack of justice.

Journal Comments

  • Pilgrim
  • kvanderjagt
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait