MAKING SENSE OF ANXIETY - A COURSE by GORDON NEUFELD - PART 1 IN A SERIES ON ANXIETY

i said goodbye on a cold dark night . . .

or was it a hot sunny day in central somewhere city and a little tear made it's way down the inside of my shades as I drove the little mazda eastward on the trans Canada. I had just said good bye to French Canadien Senum, Musical Mike, the Retiring Referee, Happy Happy Joy Joy, Midget Madeley and the whole crew. So sad so sad. And all there is now to do . . . hold sweet memories of wanting to kick the rebellion out of the photocopier (you know which one I'm talking about) and all the other things about my former place of employment that I hold so dear. Oh work, how i did love thee. Let me recount the ways . . . oh there are so many things to recall. Coffee club and our special little way to coax the milk into a froth and that our friend the the little coffee frother or whatever it is lives in the dishwasher on our floor that no one EVER uses. I would like to draw your attention to the fact that I had the key to the great inner sanctum and none of you other worker people did. I say, importance and inside access go hand in hand and I don't see the key to that place in any of your hands. Of course I have no keys now. Oh well. My tyranny had to end some time. What about double lunches. Miseur Le French would bring excess and us ladies would have to weigh our options literally to see if it was worth it to engage in the decadence or if we would hand it off to some other poor unsuspecting weight loss wagon crash victim. I do recall many valuable conversations that I participated in or simply over heard. Apparently a deep fat frier is something that a man would actually consider giving someone he liked.



The walls between neighbors weren't as thick as we sometimes were. And they didn't go all the way to the ceiling.. like we sometimes don't. But alas, good fences make good neighbors and I can assure you that if you were dumped on by a load of say kleenex, elastics, paper clips, or even pennies, well, you probably deserved it. A girl has to protect herself somehow. But I am talking about all the things I loved about this place. Well, the elevator. Ode to the 4th and 5th floors. To those of you with medical conditions, I provide you right now with a doctor's note, but for the rest of you. MY GOODNESS!! I once made a mean little joke that I wanted to bring my guitar to work and practice at lunch, but the only place I could imagine practicing undisturbed was on the stairwell between the 4th and 5th floors. EH HAHH HAHH AHH OH HOOHH.. Ahem. Yes. And then there is the practice of left over food from some meeting being left in one of the kitchen areas and then an email is sent and then we vultures descend. My favorite might be the email I get every week telling me to put my food on the top shelf or else it gets thrown out. whoever's leaving their food on those other shelves deserves to have their food put to rest. Yes. And those random dishes left in the sink forever.. Or in the fridge visibly rotting. I will now admit to having thrown out food and tupperware that didn't belong to me. Sorry if that was you, but it was gross. It had to go.



And then my little office cubicle. Home sweet home. All my pictures of the fam and the nieces and nephews and my gecko that the cleaning crew dusted and broke but never admitted to. . . all of my little quotes and reminders of what to do and who asked what and when and how some times some tasks where there so long the sticky wore off before I got around to them.. or did I hand them off to the next unsuspecting victim who is soon to return from her holiday.. just kiddn. never happened. I'm too conscientious for that. But why doth thou protest?

Anyways, work people of whom I am neither publishing your names or place of work simply because things are dangerous enough where you are without me throwing some random stalker potential into the mix.. if you know what I mean. Thanks to so and so for spending her coupon without me. You gave me courage to invest in someone else. Thanks to man 2 spaces down for only mocking my singing once by asking if I was trying out for American Idol. I'm not American. To all of you who made my work days so complete and to the others on the other floor who I have not yet referred to in this whole shpeil. . . Here's to you. To the girl who puts up pictures faster than a leaky condo, to the girl who has yet to tack a single thing of personal significance to her grey knitted wall . . . To bake sales, pot lucks, whatever that confusing name is right now for that fundraiser thingy, to cubicles, to bad coffee downstairs, to sky train stations, sky train warrior princesses, to people who bad things so we can tell them not to, to people who believe that an investment too good to be true is true, to all that is good and a building that sways in the wind to ensure you will be safe . . . to the fastest elevator in North America as long as no one gets on it . . . I will miss you, I will miss you, I will miss you.



God bless us all, and good night.