The subjective experience

The gentleman didn’t give me a simple “Hi” or a simple ”How are you?”.
In my insufferable arrogance, I think I expected a “Hi” or a “How are you”. A simple acknowledgement of an identity known to him. A smile.
Why I didn't get that, I've no idea, but he merely addressed me with instructions, once or twice. There's a facet of myself somewhere that was quite hurt by it. It must be yet another instance of my inability to adapt to the Company's ways. By Company standards, I must be terribly inappropriate sometimes. I don't care. I'd rather be human and inappropriate, and keep seeing people first and foremost before I see titles and functions, than stuff people into pre-packaged and labelled boxes or obey an unwritten, robotic code.

My cold reasoning says it is hardly worth the time to write about it. But every human experience is worth noting so I can file it away for future reference, and I must take the time to say "ouch". Ouch. This instance will go in the "incomprehensible to Brigitte" file.

The cats are lying about, giving me dirty looks. Everywhere I turn there seems to be one underfoot. I think they’re holding me personally responsible for the temperatures of 45 degrees Celsius (with the humidity factor) we’ve been having. I’ve offered to shave them or bathe them. They declined both. Scoffing I might add. Tough luck then.

My insufferable arrogance and I have a three day weekend. It shall be most welcome.