Henry - Part 1

My toenails badly needed clipping. It had been that sort of week unfortunately, a crazy, crazy week. I only barely had time to give my fingernails a rudimentary chew, but my poor old toenails hadn’t even received that. Maybe if my back was a bit more flexible I would’ve been able to do that. You see I couldn’t find the nail clippers, I thought I had left them on the fridge, because that’s where I normally put them. Why do I put them on the fridge? You ask. Well I’m not entirely sure, I think I left them there once and suddenly that had become their permanent home. I would clip my nails of a Sunday afternoon and then put them back on the fridge. But for some reason or other they had gone missing, and so now my toenails were looking like gnarled, yellow, ugly weapons.

It hadn’t really been a crazy week; I guess I was lying about that. In fact about the only interesting thing that happened was that I somehow lost my toenail clippers. Apart from that it was a pretty bloody boring week. Not that losing your nail clippers is exciting or anything, but it was probably the highlight of my week, and I told all the fellows at work and they pissed themselves laughing, they thought it was hilarious. They think I’m a bit of a card I think.

I guess they didn’t really piss themselves laughing, more like they just all walked away without really saying anything, a couple of them shaking their heads, but I thought I heard one of them stifle a giggle, in fact I’m sure I did.

Do you know what I do for a living? Of course you don’t, unless you know me that is. But for those that don’t know me, which is probably the majority, I’ll tell you what I do. I’m an office machine service technician. Sounds exciting doesn’t it? Yeah well sometimes it is, but not very often, in fact most times it’s bloody boring. The truth is I actually despise myself. I hate my boring, cringing personality, the way I suck up to everyone, even strangers, even homeless people, even dogs, in fact. The way I laugh at jokes that aren’t funny, just so as not to offend the person telling it. The way I make sure I always say please and thankyou and am always pleasant, but I know it’s not pleasant, it’s just a polite awkwardness that annoys everybody, even me. I hate the way I don’t want to step on any toes because I’m scared everyone will hate me, but that just makes people want to hate you, so they all end up hating you, because you don’t want them to hate you. The only thing I like about myself is when I finally figure out everybody hates me and so then I just shrug my shoulders and don’t give a shit, and that lasts for about a week, and then suddenly people start to like me because I don’t give a shit if they like me, because I know they hate me, and then when they start to like me I start to act awkward again because I think they like me - and then they start to hate me again.

This week was one of those weeks where everybody hates me, which is about ninety percent of the time. I tried to have a conversation with Rick, who is one of the other technicians, and he’s a bit of a dickhead, and I don’t really like him, but I want him to like me. Anyway I tried to think of something to say, and I couldn’t think of anything funny because I never seem to be able to come up with those funny stories or witticisms, and he had already heard my toenail clipper story, so I asked him if he had seen the cricket on the weekend. “Yeah,” he replied. I didn’t know what to say after that so I just said, “It was good wasn’t it.” And he said, “Not really.” I despised him for that. So I just fawningly laughed, good naturedly, of course, so he wouldn’t think bad of me and walked away. You see why I hate myself.

I mean why do I want everyone to like me anyway? It’s not as though I like anyone. But I expect everybody to love me, think I’m funny, a real card, and not want to beat me up. I guess if they wanted to beat me up that would be something, but most people don’t even know I exist.

But this Rick is a real piece of work, thinks he is the greatest office machine technician that ever walked. Sure he knows a little bit about the Canon copiers, but you get him on a tricky fault with a Sharp fax and he’s usually stumped. He’s only a young bloke I suppose so he can get a bit excited about himself. You know the type, wears the sunnies, hair slicked back, drives a V8 Holden Ute, wears a big leather jacket – the top gun technician. Thinks he’s a real hit with the ladies. But you never see him with any. Only the pictures of topless models on his mobile phone, as if he hangs around them all of the time. Spends a lot of time spanking his monkey I would say. (And yet I still desperately want him to like me.)

I hate it when we get paired up for a shift rotation. He jumps in like a bull at a gate, wants to call the shots even though I’m the more senior technician. Of course, I let him go for it because I don’t want him to not like me. Also I don’t really care, it means less work for me, and he can jump in and try to get all the glory of fixing a busted laser printer and if he completely cocks it up then I can quietly chuckle to myself.

But the worst part is when he does completely cock it up, like the time he completely scratched an expensive brand new drum off a canon copier, he somehow turns it around on me, so it looks like it was my cock up, not his. I must admit he is a genius at absolving himself from all blame, even when he is standing there with the screwdriver in his hand and the copier freshly fucked. “how’d you manage that?” he’ll ask, with the customer within earshot, “you’ve completely ruined it. Here, let me fix it!” That’s when the customer, or the boss if it’s an in house job, will turn around and Rick is standing there with the screwdriver in his hand, like he’s just grabbed it off me. Of course I protest, but I must admit my protestations are rather lame and unconvincing even though I’m in the right. You see why I hate myself.