Bobaholic - self-destructive acceptance
I used to have a colleague that reminded me of wallace and grommit. The
way he moved was so similar to the cartoon figures.
He had self-esteem problems, paranoia which he told me of and that he was
getting counciling for. I could also tell from his posture that he had
digestive problems. And it wasn't occasional, it was constant.
His stomach protruded, and this helped the characterisation from that cartoon.
And these problems highlighted his terrible diet to me.
Often at the investment bank would be chocolates that the employees could
take from, brought by holidays, by bankers, etc.
Lets call him Bob, I would become mesmerised watching him break off a slab
of chocolate chuckling away talking to colleagues, waddling like a penguin
with his digestive problem inflamed belly, as per wallace and grommit
movements, and apparently, supposedly, completely oblivious to the
self-destruction of his body, his mind, his spirit, his self.
Chewing up and gulpging down the pieces of chocolate, barely savouring the
taste, but simply shoveling enough to get some of the taste in quick
consumption of sugar laiden metabolism destroying snacks.
I figured that he would never progress much in terms of career. Oh sure,
he could go up a few notches, but he seemed to have no great vision or
drive. Anything for a 50p per hour pay raise I think was his motivation.
I imagined him in his 40s... carrying around a bigger belly, the same
jolly laugh but now more cynical, less camouflaged, infact quite accepting
of his self-destruction. And perhaps a beer, package of crisps, and his
favourite chocolate bar ready for him at his new but similar work place.
Music gets him through the day. In fact music is getting him through
life. Albeit probably a short one as the digestive problems are leading
to other complications.
He is experiencing sharp pains now running up his legs, through his
abdomen, and up into his chest. Oh, and another thing that gets him
through his life: good ol' tasty slabs of chocolate.
Oh the pleasures in life.
way he moved was so similar to the cartoon figures.
He had self-esteem problems, paranoia which he told me of and that he was
getting counciling for. I could also tell from his posture that he had
digestive problems. And it wasn't occasional, it was constant.
His stomach protruded, and this helped the characterisation from that cartoon.
And these problems highlighted his terrible diet to me.
Often at the investment bank would be chocolates that the employees could
take from, brought by holidays, by bankers, etc.
Lets call him Bob, I would become mesmerised watching him break off a slab
of chocolate chuckling away talking to colleagues, waddling like a penguin
with his digestive problem inflamed belly, as per wallace and grommit
movements, and apparently, supposedly, completely oblivious to the
self-destruction of his body, his mind, his spirit, his self.
Chewing up and gulpging down the pieces of chocolate, barely savouring the
taste, but simply shoveling enough to get some of the taste in quick
consumption of sugar laiden metabolism destroying snacks.
I figured that he would never progress much in terms of career. Oh sure,
he could go up a few notches, but he seemed to have no great vision or
drive. Anything for a 50p per hour pay raise I think was his motivation.
I imagined him in his 40s... carrying around a bigger belly, the same
jolly laugh but now more cynical, less camouflaged, infact quite accepting
of his self-destruction. And perhaps a beer, package of crisps, and his
favourite chocolate bar ready for him at his new but similar work place.
Music gets him through the day. In fact music is getting him through
life. Albeit probably a short one as the digestive problems are leading
to other complications.
He is experiencing sharp pains now running up his legs, through his
abdomen, and up into his chest. Oh, and another thing that gets him
through his life: good ol' tasty slabs of chocolate.
Oh the pleasures in life.
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