What's wrong, you look really depressed?
I asked of my work colleague, the affectionately nick-named Custard Cream. The poor chap looked really down in the dumps which was odd as he was finishing up for his holidays at the end of the week. We were sitting having lunch in the canteen. Or at least I was, he was sipping a herbal tea.
Och, I don't really want to go into it all. It's a boring story.
He said morosely as if someone had tried on his trousers but had then refused to buy them.
Fair enough.
I said, with a bit of relief, after all, who wants to listen to a boring story?
It's just that, you know I am finishing up for my hols at the end of the week?
Oh yes, we all know. You have been telling us for a couple of months.
And indeed he had. On and on and on. Portugal Portugal Portugal. At times it seemed like it was all he could say.
Och, it's silly really but something bad happened last night and I am trying to fight it but it's really getting to me.
I took stock. Custard Cream was usually quite the cheery chap. In fact, I got on fairly well with him. Apart from his odd facial habit of winking whilst twitching. It did take a while to get used to that. It gave him a slightly leery air but it was more of a facial tic than a lifestyle choice.
Go on man, you can tell me. A problem shared is a problem halved so they say.
No mate, I don't think you would understand. It's kinda personal.
I looked theatrically around me as if drunk and wondering what had become of my shoes.
Hey, I would understand. Honest. No judgement here. Are you getting on ok with the wife?
I was half wishing I could stop myself talking because I was already thinking I wouldn't understand. I was thinking he could keep his obviously weird personal problems to himself.
Much like him and his facial wink thing though. I couldn't stop.
I reached out a tentative hand and put it on his shoulder, where it sat, like a small dead animal.
He looked at my hand, then me quizzically. I pulled it back as if I had no control over the beast.
Alright then. Well you know I am going on holiday at the end of the week?
Oh good grief, yes we know. WE KNOW!! I thought. Instead of thrusting a knife-edged hand into the side of his neck and watching him sink into the eternal sleep I smiled.
Yeah, that is right. You must be getting really excited?
He looked even more miserable despite winking twice.
Well, I was.
Oof, this was like pulling teeth.
Go on?
Well, I had my last weigh-in last night. Myself and the wife, you know? Our holiday weight targets. She made hers but...
He paused. He looked near tears as if his favourite Auntie had just passed beyond the veil.
Spit it out mate, it's cool.
Said I, the eternal sympathy man.
Well, I missed my target weight. It's putting a right dampener on my mood.
I blinked in shock. That was it? He missed his holiday target weight? He was skinny as a rake anyway. He didn't need to lose any weight. If you looked up slim in the dictionary there would be a picture of him smoking a cigar.
Don't worry about it mate. You can't have missed it by much.
He still looked morose.
I didn't, that's the thing. I only missed it by 200 grams.
I spat some of my sandwich out and stared at him.
200 WHAT?! 200 GRAMS?!?! What is wrong with you? Who weighs themselves in grams? What are you a bloody gerbil? Go and chase yourself! You are a DISGRACE TO MANHOOD!
He got up huffily.
I told you you wouldn't understand...
He turned on his heel and stalked off. I balled up my sandwich wrapper and threw it at the back of his head scoring a successful hit. I thought I might have heard a sob.
I shook my head, 200 grams?! Really? Since when did people start weighing themselves in grams?!
What about you? Do you know of anyone who weights themselves in grams that is an actual human? Or is this a thing that I have missed? What is becoming of the world?
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