‘God told me that you’re my future husband.’

Say what you like about political correctness, but watching a fat security guard chasing a thin shoplifter is hilarious! Jump ahead to the guy’s appraisal with his boss stepping through the moral minefield of how to handle a zero success rate.

‘So…addressing the elephant in the room.’

After an initial spurt of adrenaline the shoplifter realised that he was over-egging it somewhat and slowed to a vague jog (whilst still comfortably pulling away). The security guard issued a four-letter tirade (presumably aimed at himself and his inability to to run 100 yards) and was rightly chastised by a young mother.

The incident topped off a surreal day that began with a dream in which I was lying in bed pissed off at having woken up twenty minutes before the alarm was due to go off .

‘You’re dreaming,’ I thought and woke up a full hour before the alarm.

Son of a…FINE…BEVERAGE!

As I waited for the kettle to boil I checked my email and encountered a spurious block of incoherent prose free of introduction or full stops.

Some context: My previous interaction with the sender was 18-months previous and consisted of the following…

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Sure. What’s up?’

‘God told me you’re my future husband.’

‘OK. Told you how?’

‘A loud voice in my head.’

A BRIEF PAUSE DURING WHICH I CONSIDERED POSSIBLE RESPONSES:

  • OPTION 1: ‘Do you know what the loud voice in my head is shouting?’
  • OPTION 2. Sell house / Change name / Take dystopian-future approach to all subsequent interactions with mankind
  • OPTION 3. ‘God’s playing silly buggers.’

‘How do you feel about me?’

‘Oh, no offence, but I don’t find you attractive in the slightest.’

‘…Then what’s all the fuss about?’

‘Why would God promise me to a man I don’t fancy? That’s why I’ve been speaking with all my friends about it for the last year.’

‘Did God put a time-scale on this union?’

‘No.’

I breathed a sigh of relief.

You (& God)’ll have to find me first.

Omnipresent you say? I shall put that to the test…

…Anyway, that was then. This is now. Amidst the text I saw the phrase ‘…seeing a bereavement councillor even though no one has died…’

My tolerance is not what it once was. Keeping the curtains drawn for fear of being seen through a sniper scope I did the old sociopath shimmy (Delete / Block / Book plastic surgeon / Liquidate assets).

Off to work and to a client interview, during which the interviewer said:

‘I like you. Not sure that you like me.’

‘Yes. I like you. You seem nice.’

‘Nice?’

Uncertain as to what superlative she was expecting (magnificent? Unparalleled? Bendy?) I opted for very nice. This was a mistake.

later, during a heated discussion a colleague threatened to insert an empty wine bottle into my bottom (a practice known as making corporate in-roads).

‘You’re having a shocker!’ I said to the aforementioned security guard.

Advertisements

3 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

3 responses to “‘God told me that you’re my future husband.’

  1. Ha! Thanks for visiting and liking Grumble.

  2. Making corporate in-roads was a new expression to me. Enjoyed the read.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s