Chandler Reiss | Capitol | FIN

CHANDLER

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Monday, 9am.

”Why do you want to work for us?” A change,new faces, different people, free food, a new life.
”Your business seems to be very well organised and I’d like to be a part of that service.” The man’s eyes twitch as he reads through my curriculum vitae. There is nothing wrong with it, all my skills are listed on their and I lack  nothing that this company needs.

”Says here you’ve no experience in the culinary business Mr Reiss, we don’t tend to take on those with…no experience.” Mr Reiss..ugh. The name sends poison through my veins, as the man’s interpretation of it plays through in my mind on repeat.

”I can easily learn on the job, I do pick up on things quickly.” I haven’t got it, why did I even bother? They’re all the same these little businesses in the Capitol.

”That’ll be it for today, we’ll get in touch with you if you’re…successful.” Raising from the chair, I’d take the man’s hand and shake it. Get in touch with you…my ass. Leaving the office, I’d pull out the hand sanitizer. Cleansing any germs on my palms that could’ve infested themselves from the man.

Crossing off the café from the list on my notepad, I’d venture to the next company I intend to join.

This time I’ll win it.

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Monday, 1:11pm

”Is married life knocking you down?”

Sat slumped on the sofa, the couple would be torn apart, by whatever demons live between them both. The man, his facial expressions engulfed with fury. The woman, her face cupped in her hands, obviously hiding away the sadness from her face.

”What about work life, do you feel like you’re on a never ending cycle?”

A man sits in an office, his face glued to a piece of parchment, his hands working vigorously. Blank of any expression, it seems as if he is sedated. Worn out dead eyes hide the misery that lays inside of him.A dark suite drapes his body, his collar all scuffled a button missed on his shirt.

I am looking into my own reflection

”Just lost your job and want help getting back onto your feet?”

A woman bursts through two doors, a box of commodities in her hand. Tripping as she leaves the building, her box flies across the ground. Smashing as it leaves the box, a precious photograph of her family erupts in shades of glass. Gathering her belongings, the woman is stained with tears, her life has just be detonated.

Now there I am, picking up the photograph, my hand extended to the woman.
”Have any of these problems or similar, then get help.” The woman shakes my hand and we both pan to the camera, smiles spread across our face as we hold hands.

”Do you know what you better do? You better talk to Chandler!” The narrator begins to list all my details, different scenarios flashing on the screen. At the end, a great portrait of my self…oh dear ripred. Why must they stick my face all over it? I look like any typical stuck up capitolite. I am here to serve, not to get followers.

Thankfully the commercial ends, cutting off to another.

Switching off the television, disappointment would rage through me. They never even showed me the final cut. Now I look like a complete arse hole.

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Monday, 3:30pm.

”Your hour begins now.” Pressing the button the timer, I’d pull together notes.
”I saw your commercial today, I really like it.” It’s nice to know that somebody does, stabbing the pencil into the blank parchment, a sigh would roll out of my mouth.
”We’re here to talk about you but thank you. So tell me about your life before you got to where you’re now.”

For half an hour the young male rambles on about his childhood. ”As a teenager I got tied up in drugs, my dad’s fault for being rough as I said earlier.” Now I have heard that story before. Copying his every word onto the parchment, the blank ivory piece would be coated in grey lead, not a single mistake in my words. Taking breaks every so often, I’d crack my wrist as it would slowly try to surrender to my writing. ”I nearly got thrown into the detention centre a couple of times too.”

Glancing to the clock, the boy had another twenty minutes. Twenty more minutes and I am home. Twenty more minutes and my repetitive life continues on its path. Back to the same apartment where I have lived for ten years. The same furniture, the same door, the same food in the fridge. The same bed I sleep in and then start the same cycle in, on a morning. Even after countless of different redecorations and alteration of furniture positions, it just never pleases me. It always feels the same to me, my life is stuck on the same path. 

As the boy stops his speech on his life story, I’d raise the paper of notes in the air.”See this piece of paper, this is your old life.” Placing it down on the desk, I’d pull out a rubber from a drawer. Vigorously, I’d begin to rub away every last bit of lead on the paper. Tackling any remnants, I’d want it to be clean, to be back in its antecedent condition. Raising it back in the air for the boy to see, I’d point to it with my free hand. ”Now the paper is blank. Your old life has been wiped away from it, like we’re going to help you to do. I’ll use this paper again in the next session, to plan your new life on.”

4:30pm

Shaking my hand vigorously, the boy is overly thankful for my service. ”Thankyou so very much, you’ve helped me so much and it is only the first session” He is being too over enthusiastic and I play along with his joy, keeping the smile on my face. The smile that has been hiding my dull sedated life for ages. I can’t allow my clients to see how dull my life is behind the closed curtains. They see my smiles on the commercials and expect to see it when they come for their hour long session. Everyday another one, an hour long, I sit there listening to their problems. Taking down a few notes and presenting them with hope. They think my words help them. I am more of a placebo affect for them all, they’re the ones that change their lives, not me.

”I will see you tomorrow at the same time, and then after that we will have weekly sessions.” Shaking my hand, the boy leaves the office. Pulling out the hand sanitizer, I’d tackle any germs contracted from the boy. After all he did do drugs for a while.

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Monday, 7:28pm

It’s all a mess.

Paper is tossed all over my apartment desk, stationary has seemed to become un-stationary as it is thrown all over.

It’s all a mess.

Prancing down my brow, sweat begins to tackle my eyes as I frantically adjust my work space. Patting the papers all square, i would neatly align up all the pencils. Pulling out the pack of sushi, I’d place it directly in the middle of the desk, away from the papers. Picking away at the raw fish, I’d place the glass of juice exactly five centimetres from the food.

It’s all back to normal

Glaring around the apartment, the stillness brings some relief to my hectic day but my imaginations trails elsewhere. Children playing in front of me, a wife asking me about my dad. The children…two of them curious on my clients. We’re all happy, we’re all together…but here I am alone. A great big three bedroomed apartment…all to myself. Not even friends to invite over for parties, the only faces I speak too are my clients.

I am stuck on the same conveyor belt of life. Day after day I run through the same scenarios, I try to fight out of it but I get no help. I just help everyone else. All these job interviews get me nowhere.

Everyone wants to know me as the psychiatrist but I want to be different.

I’ve been living the same life for twenty years.

I need a change.

Right now.

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