It should all have been so easy!

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A Monologue

How the hell did I get into this mess? The last 24 hours have been an absolute nightmare! If only I could blank it out of my memory and start again – but I can’t!

I stormed into that spotty faced morons office, so full of determination, with my fists clenched, teeth grinding and jaw clamped and saw him sitting there, in his bright, modern room, with his legs sprawled out across his desk, looking so supercilious, so relaxed. I guess I should have known right away to keep my mouth shut!

But as usual I was unable to control myself! My words poured out as those pale, piggy eyes bore into me! I knew he wasn’t listening to a word I said! He thinks because his father owns the place and has money and he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, that he’s something special!

Maybe I did burst in all guns blazing but when you’re top salesman of the year, why not? Surely that should count for something! The commission they pay me for all the jobs I get for them to line their hand-made suit pockets is a joke! I deserved a rise! I deserved some recognition!

But did he see it – did he want to see it – did he hell! All he went on about, in that high pitched, whiney voice of his, was ‘targets’.

Well, I told him where to put his targets! I gave him a few home truths all right! ‘I’ve had enough.’ I said. ‘I’m not going to answer to you anymore! Bloody mummies boy! Find someone else to hit your targets!’

That made him sit up and turn around – and I walked out and slammed the door into that smarmy face of his and boy did that feel good! Bet he was on the phone to Daddy even before I left the building.

****

Trouble is, when I got home and I opened the front door, she rushed up to me and threw her arms around my neck …… and my heart sank. I knew what she was going to say even before she said it. She’s been on about having a baby long enough – endless whingeing at those interminable dinner parties she arranges with her ‘professional’ so called friends, where they talk about how much money they earn and where I act as glorified wine waiter. I hadn’t taken that much notice up till then, tried to ignore it, hoping the feeling would pass. It hadn’t seemed real till now – but suddenly I feel trapped!

I DON’T WANT THIS! I don’t want to be tied down with nappies – in a house smelling of sick. I don’t want to come home each night to mess and noise! Constantly hard up! Responsibility! For LIFE!

But I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her that I’ve just walked out of my job – not now. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just the two of us – but a baby….

Her parents already think I’m not good enough for her. When they visit the house (the one they never tire of reminding me they’ve paid for) I can feel them watching me, judging me, their eyes telling me how inadequate I am. Well, they’ll have plenty to judge me for now! I can hear them, as they drive home in their precious Mercedes saying, ‘Fancy doing this to her. He knows how to pick his time! You’d think he’d be more considerate. I knew that temper of his would be his downfall! She should never have married him. I did warn her!’ Oh yes, I can hear them already twisting the knife, as they sip their gin and tonics on the balcony of their sunny holiday home in Spain.

****

How smug he looks as I walk back into his office, cap in hand, to ask for my job back – and that high pitched voice, like a girls, tells me they’ve already offered my job to someone else – and given them my list of contacts. The contacts I worked my backside off to get! He takes great pleasure in telling me, with a sneer, the only job they can offer me ‘at this time’ is at a much reduced rate.

….and worst of all I smile and I thank him … and I tell him how grateful I am and apologise for my temper tantrum …. And I walk out slowly, softly closing the door behind me, knowing the smirk on his face is expanding on the other side.

….. And I now face the prospect of going home to tell her! The verbal abuse, the inquest, the tears, the recriminations, the apologies! The days of silent treatment, as she sits knitting baby clothes, knitting needles clacking, like the women by the guillotine, just in case I forget this dreadful wrong I have done, not only to her but also to our child!

****

What went wrong? What happened to the carefree lad I used to be? What have I done to deserve this? What has life done to me? What have I done with my life? What have I become?

I had such high hopes. I don’t ask for much, just a well-paid job, real friends, foreign holidays……

All I see now are rows of nappies flapping in the breeze, waving, as if they are laughing at me and stretching out into infinity.

It should all have been so easy!

 *****

 

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