backyard crowing
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Cruel Smirks
I wonder how many people in the world have been hurt or made to cry by a smirk.
It seems to me that smirkers don't see the harm in their smirks, so they never feel guilty about them. Smirkees, or receivers of smirks, must live with their memories of those condescending smirks forever.
Today I walked into the newspaper's office to quit my job. I was not sure if I needed to sign anything, or just let an editor know, or simply not sign up for tryouts. So I asked.
I walked in the office and was greeted by our secretary/accountant. "Welcome back," he said, and I smiled and thanked him. He always treated people pleasantly, except when the phones rang an no one picked them up (a reasonable irk, since it's a distraction.)
I walked a bit further into the editor's office and saw my old editor paired with two new ones, who were senior reporters last semester. They acknowledged my presence for once (and in a friendly manner), and I explained that I could not be on the staff this semester because I did not do well academically last Fall. They were obscenely polite, and so I was as well. Throughout the exchange, my old editor didn't utter a word; he sat on his chair smirking. It was as if he saw it coming, he was glad I was leaving, my writing was shit, I wasn't needed on the staff, and I was only announcing my departure to get somebody to say, "Thanks for all your great work."
All that, and I was only asking a question. And apologizing for something that doesn't require an apology.
I don't know if I'll join the paper again�but if I do, I will not be a writer there. Then again, maybe I should, just to be contrary and show him I'm not the transparent idiot he imagines.
8:41 pm - tuesday, Jan. 15, 2008
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