A nice thing happened at work

Sigh! Someone reported me at work and now I have to write an article about my professional journey so it can be posted on the organization’s website to serve as inspiration to members of the human race that will come across it. I wish I knew which of my tasks led up to this then I would have an idea of the person that reported me (it wouldn’t change anything if I knew anyway). The email I received from the communications department did not mention who had reported me. I asked to include my supervisor in my story. He was very excited as he had no knowledge of this. So, if he wasn’t the one that reported me, who did? I should mention that I do not like to be seen, I love the darkness and blending in the background. I wish I could write it anonymously or use a pseudo name.

It’s been two weeks since I got the news. I have been expertly procrastinating thinking about what I would like to jot down to inspire a young African girl. I even have to share a few photos of me working. Will I have to invite my neighbour to come to my house and take photos of me as I work? I have two friends. I will call one of them. I don’t know any of my neighbours. I moved to a new apartment and decided not to be friendly with my neighbours because I have had bad experiences with neighbours that have no knowledge of what a boundary is and why people set them. I would not want to unwillingly end up taking illegal drugs and have a one-hour phone call with my ex-partner only to wake up and realize that it was my cousin I talked to for that hour, again. I might need to dress up for the photos. Maybe get rid of the legal drugs on my table so nobody thinks that I am doing a great job despite my illness. The drugs are all prescribed by the doctor for my mildly acidic stomach that gets angry whenever I introduce beans to my gut.

I guess I am coming to terms with this. I might even come up with a concept in my sleep.

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