Satire |Frustration
Welcome To My Wellwishers Orientation
You are not invited if you do not keep a tab on my existence
Please grab a seat and a brochure for the program flow. When I refer to the instances anonymously, it is important to avoid eye contact with each other. I am afraid gestural cues might give out the names of the well-wishers we do not want to.
Also, grab a pen and book for noteworthy bullets for future reference.
I see confusion glazed on some faces in the family’s Third Circle corner. Yes, this orientation is specially designed for you and some well-wishers from Second Circle.
In the left corner are Tom, Dick, and Harry, with their respective partners, Rose, Ann, and Marry. I invite you to gear up all the verbal character assassinations with other miscellaneous trespasses.
Wave to the other well-wishers whose intensity and intentions to wish me well are similar to yours but might vary in representations.
My therapist suggests having boundaries to keep you from extra efforts.
But I am struggling with boundaries, and hence, the pressure of perseverance comes on your shoulders.
The buffet is laid out exactly as you’d want to discuss post-dinner. Cottage cheese is as rubbery as your stubborn presence, the daal is as bland as your wishes, and desserts are as sugary as your sugar-coated pleasantries.
Alright, to start with an important announcement—I wake up at 6:30 a.m. almost daily. But sometimes, I fail to surpass your expectations for personal nocturnal reasons. And I might sound groggy on a phone call to give you ample evidence of my late nocturnal activities. So when you called me at 10:30 a.m. inquiring if I was still asleep, yes, I was. But don’t bother yourself. Let’s pretend that I was awake to avoid embarrassment.
The second important thing—no, I don’t have a social battery. You can call me whenever you want, inquire about my whereabouts, and keep tabs on my geographical movement. I’d suggest connecting my Google location to your phone. It flatters me to have eyeballs following my existence.
Three — My day has 36 hours, unlike yours. I have extra time and added patience to talk about Tom and his wife Rose’s new business adventure and your anxiety about their funds to start their venture.
I also can accommodate 35 minutes discovery call fretting over Dick’s daughter-in-law’s recent pregnancy. And her parents' inadequacy in funding the delivery. And make no mistake, I am right here for Mary’s second husband’s third affair’s family debate. It absolutely elates my spirits and faith in mankind.
Lastly — I am sick over my skyrocketing weight and age. I wonder if anyone else has flaws as gross as mine. Who ages the way I do in this mortal world? Who takes nutritional diet plans to keep a check on their bursting weights? NO ONE besides me!
So, my dear well-wishers, keep your concerns coming because they are instrumental in producing content and exciting coffee breaks with my friends.
