‘What do you do in your spare
time then?’
Is there really a good answer for
this question? It goes up there with ‘Give an interesting fact about yourself’
for being one of the most challenging questions to ever answer.
My mind furiously plays with any
and every event I’ve ever experienced before settling on probably the most tedious
fact about my existence.
‘I do a bit of writing when I
have the time’.
Bravo, you can place a pen to a
piece of paper and construct a series of unexciting word-strings. I mean,
everyone ‘does a bit of writing’ it’s hardly a mind-blowing revelation. More so
if you are already familiar with the fact that I am an English degree student,
so obviously, I write. It pretty much comes with the title. To my appreciation
most people just mumble the obligatory ‘that’s nice’ or ‘how interesting’ but
there is always one person that feels the need to expand the already dreary
discussion with a desire to know what kind of writing, what it’s about and if
they can read some.
Having studied English for half
my life with writing becoming a part of my daily routine dating back nearly 6
years, I am used to these questions and respond the same way to all who enquire
about it. I write everything, short stories, articles, reviews, poetry, you name
it, I’ve tried my hand at it (not all successfully I may add). I have no
particular solitary influence for my writing and therefore it can never be
categorised by its genre (My poetry ranges from epic love tales to sonnets
about Spiderman). In regards to sharing my work I find that my writing is very
private, I hardly show anyone, but, like this, the odd text will make it to my
online blog.
So as I prepared myself to relay this speech again today, I
was shocked when the conversation diverted to a new route. My companion, who sat at an awkwardly close
distance to my desk, slurping coffee and destroying my productivity for the
day, upon hearing the news that I enjoyed writing, rested the coffee mug with
great precision on the arm of the chair, learnt forward and quite sternly
exclaimed with raised eyebrows
‘Bunch of arrogant, morbid racists writers are, aren’t they?’
Now if anyone has been in a work environment with a particularly
difficult client, that takes joy in personally insulting you and is beyond
opinionated, you may begin to understand my complete shock at the statement.
Not only was I being unfairly labelled as a racist (who
knows where that had derived from); I was in a position of utter contradiction.
To laugh at the statement would surely make the client feel more welcome in the
practice, but what if the comment was not meant in light-heartedness, it didn’t
seem to be and I surely did not agree with the statement, joke or not. I couldn’t
argue with the client in the office, after all, we needed the client and I
needed a job and I knew that I couldn’t sit in the awkward silence any longer
without a full blown brawl taking place.
So I did the only thing a professional could do in the
situation. With complete composure, I rose from my chair in silence, reached
for the drawer beneath my desk and handed the gentleman a KitKat.
‘Time to take a break I think!’
