Career, Personal

The Script

When I first started this job, I kept my script at my desk, hidden beneath my notepad, and I would read from it as discreetly as possible.

Nearly six years later, the script flows out of my mouth before I can even think about it. Sometimes I rattle it off so quickly, while my mind is elsewhere, that when I come to the end of my speech I forget where I am, what else I’m supposed to be saying. I grapple for the right words to explain to people who don’t really want to hear what I have to say the reasons why they are ineligible for a benefit to which they feel entitled.

I can read the script with my eyes closed. I can recite it in my sleep. Sometimes I think that I’ll still remember it a decade from now, when, God-willing, I’m doing something totally unrelated to this, and that I’ll turn to whoever is around and give my brief speech, introducing myself and explaining the clients’ rights. And when I finish, my partner, my kid, my student, whoever has heard this nonsense will look at me, confused, and ask, “What are you TALKING about?” And I’ll laugh because I don’t have the words to share my experiences here.

When my alarm went off this morning, I cried. I actually woke up at 2:30 am, after a nightmare about having a huge argument with a client outside of the building, and when I glanced at my phone I realized I had five hours of sleep left. But I didn’t, couldn’t, fall back to sleep so I just laid there, listening to the infomercials on TV. I was awake when my alarm finally rang, and the first words out of my mouth were: I don’t want to go.

I’m sick of the fucking script.

Standard

2 thoughts on “The Script

  1. I totally sympathize with your work situation. I have a job where I have to say the same thing over and over again–I get sick of my own voice sometimes! Hang in there!!

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