Psycho Nut Job Watch Alert

We have a psychologist on the U.S. Vets homeless veteran shelter premesis. She doesn’t do any one-on-one counselling of veterans or anything like that. I’m not sure what she does, but she does it in the Corporate Development office next to our computer room.
I’m not sure what Corporate Development does, either. I think they beg corporations for money and that’s what kind of psychology Laura does: getting into corporate heads to relieve them of some of their corporate slush fund guilt money.

Laura is a rotund little person, a waddler. She reminds me of Oliver Hardy of Laurel and Hardy, even down to the mustache, except that she sports a dayglo red punk rock spikey hairdo. She looks like a fat little junior high schooler looking for the Halloween party. Every day.

She was doing the ‘administrator shuffle’ (head down, for God’s sake don’t make eye contact with the inmates) along the sidewalk from her office to the mess hall. I was walking the opposite direction from the elevators to the Benched Players benches. She looked up and asked me perfunctorily (not actually expecting an answer) “Howyaduune?”

“I’m on the unshaven edge of madness,” I answered and kept walking.

She kept walking, too. She walked a few feet away, stopped, turned back to me and asked, “What?”

“I’M ON THE UNSHAVEN EDGE OF MADNESS!” I said louder over my shoulder and kept walking.

I sat down on the benches across from Gordon The Hollywood Anarchist, who was on his cell phone with a Washington, D.C. customer service bureaucrat at the Department of Labor. Gordon was really letting the bureacrat have it, rathfully screaming at him about what kind of shady, broken-souled government it must be that couldn’t peel loose 37 cents to mail an honest laborer the form he needed.

Laura walked past the Benched Players bench just as Gordon was demanding to speak to the beaurocrat’s supervisor or someone even higher up, preferably someone who had the authority and the ability to command the expense of 37 cents to mail him a labor complaint form.

“I was just kidding,” I called out to Laura as she passed, “I’m going to shave this afternoon.”

She must’ve run and told because since that little exchange, I’ve noticed other administrators suddenly making eye contact with me when they never did before. They seem to be going out of their way to ask me how I’m doing. Uh oh. I’m on their radar screens now. Laura must’ve put out a Psycho Nut Job Watch Alert.

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