So what were you thinking at 4:30 yesterday afternoon when I passed you outside my office door, smiled and asked about you? Were you thinking of what you’d do with the little money (about $100) contained in my wallet? Or were you wondering why a stranger would even care about you?
But this anger I feel isn’t so much directed at you as it is for me. What was I thinking leaving my purse hooked to one of the chairs in my office? Why am I such a duh-head and if you must know, lazy? How sanctimonious and bullshit of me to somehow believe that because we’re a non-profit, we are excluded from the fuss and tumble everyone else faces. After all, people come in every day to make house payments. This could have happened a gazillion times in the past seven years, but it hasn’t. Thank you, stranger, for introducing more things to fear in an already fearful life.
The detectives say that you don’t use credit cards, that your only object is cash. Well now, there’s some good news for me. After all, I now have no credit cards, no ATM card, a new checking account with no information printed on the checks other than the account number (and you know how willing merchants are to accept that form of currency), and as usual I procrastinated about Christmas shopping.
So fuck me and fuck you, you waste of DNA. You’re the scum that scum wipes off its feet after a long day in the sewer.
(Apologies for the incoherence. I’m doing the real time forehead slapping since I don’t believe in smileys. But I appreciate the opportunity to vent because everybody else has gotten the game face and “Everything’s cool. It could have been much worse.”)