Madness is a dance unto one's self |
Interview It isn't about the people that you know, or the life experiences that you've had, insanity is just a part of the person you are. It is like the stem that holds the flower or the tree that houses the bird. One could never do without the other, and there is an unspoken contract between both parties as to the responsibilities of each. Madness lays dormant in the mind until called upon, and it is a sneaky viper. There is always shock and awe, in the aftermath of crazy. I put finishing touches on my outfit. Silently, I approved of the image that greeted me. The newly purchased black pants were slimming and the purple silk blouse added just the right amount of color pop. I was having a good hair day with each strand falling dutifully into place. For an entire hour I had manipulated the curls and was happy with the finished product. But as I turned to leave the reflection, one limp and loose curl brushed against my forehead. There was frenzy in my movements, as I fought to tame the wayward strand. Scissors were the only competent tool in my arsenal. I chose to chop off the offending curl and it sated me. Hopping into my car I whistled a tune, while the radio played a different song. The static of the two renderings calmed me, as I headed for the interview. I floored the pedal not wanting to be late, narrowly missing a child crossing the street. I made sure to give an appropriate finger wave to the offender. Getting this job was a necessity for me, as the funds were low. The night shift hours would serve me well, with less interference into my activities. The pay sounded good and I counted myself as a people person. I enjoyed making the offenders of society pay the price for their indiscretions. The hospital would be the perfect setting for my judgments I did well with interview process, answering the questions with just the right amount of verbiage. I smiled when necessary and the psyche evaluation was a comical hurdle for the less savvy candidates. Satisfied with my results, I was sent for a drug screening. Carefully, I poured my niece's urine into the cup from the leg bag strapped to my thigh. I handed the sample to the matron watching me. I could tell by her smile that she was satisfied by the sample. "Thank you. We will be in touch sometime this afternoon," she said. I returned home to await their call. To keep my mind from wandering, I pulled my latest sewing project from the bag. It was a new hobby, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Voodoo dolls are so calming when used wisely. They tend to keep the insanity from running amok. The phone rang and I was told to start on Monday. As I hung up the phone, I couldn't help but think, "BOY, DID YOU PICK THE WRONG ONE." Word count 499 |