Six Wives (Who's Counting?), My First Day at Work, and "Are You a Disciple or an Enemy?"

I've just married for the sixth or seventh time. I first met Mona in the Louvre in Paris. In fact, it was three days ago. There was mystery in her smile - it didn't have an 'e'. Of course, Mona is not the first female I've met who has cried, or said, "I'm unhappy," as we start to make love. I know some people cry after passionate activity; that's understandable. Frankly, it stifles my performance when a woman sobs at the mere thought of lovemaking, halfway through, or shrieks, "Monster!" at me when in the throes of unfettered lust. It only increases my complexes of failure.

My neighbour, Ivor Whoopingcough, was overwhelmed with Mona's beauty, charm, and intelligence. "She's well-knit that one. It's a delight to watch her ... You must feel happier in bed again ..." His left eye kept winking at his right eye. I hardly knew what to say. I could tell he was thinking hard about Mona. He asked if I was still close to my ex-wife's. When I replied, "Yes. They're all buried in my back garden", he laughed so stupidly, I almost felt alone. He thought I was joking. It's only natural, I suppose.

Ah, my first day in permanent employment. A creature who sat at a desk every day. A man at the elevator said he had been standing on the same spot for two years. He couldn't have been more gloomy. "They take on anybody here. Leave your brain at the door. You're not paid to think, you're paid to do. The funny think," he continued, "is that after a while everyone grows tired and tends to look alike, both male and female. I don't know about you, but I despise dead people". He give me a strange look and stepped into the empty elevator shaft. His last words? "Always check the elevator is in the shaft .........." I never got to thank him.

There are two ways of getting into a rut; sleepwalking, or enduring the misery. I became a hamster on a wheel. Suddenly, I felt old. I became a different person. In the space of a few days I heard stories about affairs, selfishness, insincerity, fraud. The boss had rings under his eyes, a face that turned from pale to red like traffic lights, four strands of hair to cover his baldness, and dashed around mostly with his feet of the ground. Of course, he was screwing his secretary - it was common knowledge - and quite honestly she wasn't up to much.

The place was full of hypocrites who mistakenly sustained a high opinion of themselves. An opinion not shared by their work colleagues (in private), their spouses, or lovers'. Indifference and despair hung like a heavy cloud. I'm sure jealousy kept some staff awake at night. I'm sure it still does. No one who needs release is immune from seeking, or harbouring thoughts of guilty pleasures.

In this concrete environment you become a disciple, or an enemy. The workplace gargles with it. I hadn't the resolve to resign. I wish I had. I was losing something with every hour that passed. Of course, I had yet to acquire the wisdom to stop and question how best to go forward with my life. Perhaps a different path?

Reflections: Who am I? - Indeed, who is anyone to judge the desires and hearts of others' when we know so little of our own?

The workplace has its share of women who sob, and men who speak disparagingly of others', and vice versa. The rituals of scapegoating, and the figurative stoning to death of fellow human beings, will prevail as long as workplaces exist. Unfortunately, human malice and greed has no boundaries.

Anyway, use what energy you have left after work has exhausted you, to seek what little pleasure, and life, you may have left. Sometimes years of servitude count for nothing but the demise of your soul.