This was a fun piece written as an assignment for the Writers Circle which meets in Safety Harbor Florida. The assignment was: “In 600 words or less tell is about a friendships that developed or maybe didn’t develop in a work setting.”
Ain’t Misbehavin
When the leaders of the writing circle suggested that we write about friendship and work I immediately thought back to 1980 when I arrived in Wheeling, West Virginia to begin a job at the Northern Panhandle Behavioral Health Center. I had taken the job to be close to Pittsburgh where my ex-wife was living with our son following our divorce. I would live in Pittsburgh and commute to Wheeling to work for several years.
All organizations, it seems, are fond of meetings designed to ensure that the professionals they hire with years of training are frequently tested for their endurance of redundant, boring discussions of how to perform one’s job. Mental health facilities are no exception. Committees are established to examine the motivations or intent of committees. So, it seems.
I have never successfully attained the mental and emotional numbness to which every adult in our intentionally complex society most aspire if one is to be successful in becoming a good team member – otherwise known as a robot. I do, however, seem to possess the uncanny ability to identify that one other imposter posing as a serious adult as soon as I enter a room of colleagues. Such was the case at the first required meeting I attended at the Northern Panhandle Mental Health Center. There was Dr. K who was also a recent immigrant to West Virginia. I passed her a note inquiring about certain aspects of her thought process regarding the diagnosis of our colleagues. Dr. K responds with an erudite observation regarding our illustrious leader of this meeting. I know that I have identified a kindred spirit and that we will become fast friends.
We soon discovered that we have the same theme song borrowed from Fats Waller – Ain’t Misbavin’, the first verse of which is:
No one to talk with
All by myself
No one to walk with
But I'm happy on the shelf
Ain't misbehavin'
I'm savin' my love for you
Thus, began a relationship which carried the weight of multiple roles. As a doctor, she was often my clinical supervisor. We were also colleagues who frequently referred to each other. Soon she was showing off Bose stereo speakers.
Eventually we began dating despite my resolve to explore the same sex attraction which had led me to end my previous dating relationship with, as it happened, a female clinical supervisor – another city – another community mental health center. She too had adopted the same theme song.
Obviously, there was a pattern here; the same pattern which had been detected by one of my professors when I was chronologically well into my thirties pursuing my second master’s degree. I and another student were invited to stay after class because we were talking and could not be bothered to listen to the lecture which seemed to merely repeat what we had already read for ourselves.
The friendship with this bright, delightful, woman who does not suffer fools gladly and who continues to sing the same theme song is now more than 36 years old. We are both still working, still delighted with our professions, and still bored with meetings.
No one to talk with
All by myself
No one to walk with
But I'm happy on the shelf
Ain't misbehavin'
I'm savin' my love for you
As it happens the friendship with the former supervisor, with whom I ended a romantic relationship to explore my same-sex attraction, also continues after a respite during which she “contemplated” an extreme act of violence against my very personhood.
593 words
Written May 15, 2017
This was a fun piece written as an assignment for the Writers Circle which meets in Safety Harbor Florida. The assignment was: “In 600 words or less tell is about a friendships that developed or maybe didn’t develop in a work setting.”
Ain’t Misbehavin
When the leaders of the writing circle suggested that we write about friendship and work I immediately thought back to 1980 when I arrived in Wheeling, West Virginia to begin a job at the Northern Panhandle Behavioral Health Center. I had taken the job to be close to Pittsburgh where my ex-wife was living with our son following our divorce. I would live in Pittsburgh and commute to Wheeling to work for several years.
All organizations, it seems, are fond of meetings designed to ensure that the professionals they hire with years of training are frequently tested for their endurance of redundant, boring discussions of how to perform one’s job. Mental health facilities are no exception. Committees are established to examine the motivations or intent of committees. So, it seems.
I have never successfully attained the mental and emotional numbness to which every adult in our intentionally complex society most aspire if one is to be successful in becoming a good team member – otherwise known as a robot. I do, however, seem to possess the uncanny ability to identify that one other imposter posing as a serious adult as soon as I enter a room of colleagues. Such was the case at the first required meeting I attended at the Northern Panhandle Mental Health Center. There was Dr. K who was also a recent immigrant to West Virginia. I passed her a note inquiring about certain aspects of her thought process regarding the diagnosis of our colleagues. Dr. K responds with an erudite observation regarding our illustrious leader of this meeting. I know that I have identified a kindred spirit and that we will become fast friends.
We soon discovered that we have the same theme song borrowed from Fats Waller – Ain’t Misbavin’, the first verse of which is:
No one to talk with
All by myself
No one to walk with
But I'm happy on the shelf
Ain't misbehavin'
I'm savin' my love for you
Thus, began a relationship which carried the weight of multiple roles. As a doctor, she was often my clinical supervisor. We were also colleagues who frequently referred to each other. Soon she was showing off Bose stereo speakers.
Eventually we began dating despite my resolve to explore the same sex attraction which had led me to end my previous dating relationship with, as it happened, a female clinical supervisor – another city – another community mental health center. She too had adopted the same theme song.
Obviously, there was a pattern here; the same pattern which had been detected by one of my professors when I was chronologically well into my thirties pursuing my second master’s degree. I and another student were invited to stay after class because we were talking and could not be bothered to listen to the lecture which seemed to merely repeat what we had already read for ourselves.
The friendship with this bright, delightful, woman who does not suffer fools gladly and who continues to sing the same theme song is now more than 36 years old. We are both still working, still delighted with our professions, and still bored with meetings.
No one to talk with
All by myself
No one to walk with
But I'm happy on the shelf
Ain't misbehavin'
I'm savin' my love for you
As it happens the friendship with the former supervisor, with whom I ended a romantic relationship to explore my same-sex attraction, also continues after a respite during which she “contemplated” an extreme act of violence against my very personhood.
593 words
Written May 15, 2017
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