Early one morning, Florence rushed up to me and asked “Do you have diabetes”? She has found the toilet bowl crawling with ants. Apparently someone has not flushed sufficiently the evening before. The sweet urine has attracted these little insects. She went about asking every female in the office. Everyone gave the same negative reply, “Not me”. Who was it then? Only you know, your doctor knows, God knows and nobody knows.
On a similar occasion, while changing her hygiene napkin, a few drops littered the toilet floor. Poor Lily was picked as the scrape goat. I do not know whether she was innocent nor do I know whether she was careless. As for me, I challenged anyone who dared put the blame on me by posing, “If you want to say me, touch here”, pointing to my buttocks.
A fax came in just before we closed for the weekends. I left the documents on my boss’s desk. After glancing through she folded them and slipped them into her “brief case”. Come Tuesday, she insisted she has given them to me for filing. She suggested I consume Ginkgo Biloba for better memory power and accused me of “simply put the documents”. She went through my desk and my filing trays. Misplacing documents are frequent in our office. Most of the time I would sit fuming, kept silent and waited for “Nah, it’s here”. It is no use arguing with a mulish person. The documents will surface after a while. In the meantime, two black faces and ball-rolling across the room.
How often do we own up for our mistakes? We are afraid when we say “It’s me, I did it”, people will take a step away from us. We lost people’s trust, we lost their friendship and inadvertently we are alone, unsupported by people who are often around us.
If we keep on denying, nobody dares to bite us because people are afraid if they bite they will contact HIV from us. It looks like me, it sounds like me, but it is not me. Who is it then, our clone, our twins, or our Mr. Hyde? So you see, living in denial is far safer than confessing to a crime. This way we do not have to pay for our mistakes.
On a similar occasion, while changing her hygiene napkin, a few drops littered the toilet floor. Poor Lily was picked as the scrape goat. I do not know whether she was innocent nor do I know whether she was careless. As for me, I challenged anyone who dared put the blame on me by posing, “If you want to say me, touch here”, pointing to my buttocks.
A fax came in just before we closed for the weekends. I left the documents on my boss’s desk. After glancing through she folded them and slipped them into her “brief case”. Come Tuesday, she insisted she has given them to me for filing. She suggested I consume Ginkgo Biloba for better memory power and accused me of “simply put the documents”. She went through my desk and my filing trays. Misplacing documents are frequent in our office. Most of the time I would sit fuming, kept silent and waited for “Nah, it’s here”. It is no use arguing with a mulish person. The documents will surface after a while. In the meantime, two black faces and ball-rolling across the room.
How often do we own up for our mistakes? We are afraid when we say “It’s me, I did it”, people will take a step away from us. We lost people’s trust, we lost their friendship and inadvertently we are alone, unsupported by people who are often around us.
If we keep on denying, nobody dares to bite us because people are afraid if they bite they will contact HIV from us. It looks like me, it sounds like me, but it is not me. Who is it then, our clone, our twins, or our Mr. Hyde? So you see, living in denial is far safer than confessing to a crime. This way we do not have to pay for our mistakes.
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