Self Important art enthusiast -

Keep me posted

It’s Thursday night and I’m bored. There’s nobody in the galleries besides one old lady with a walker, inching her way slowly across the wood floor that creaks with every step she takes. I look down at my ID badge with its fuzzy photo of my pudgy face and beneath that, my name misspelled beneath the word SECURITY in big red block letters. The face in the photo looks nothing like me. There’s a blank look in its eyes; the guy looks like a complete loser. I twirl my radio around and around in my hand until I drop it. The bang startles the old lady, she looks around, frightened. I smile to reassure her as I bend over to pick it up. I resume my important twirling, until it inevitably falls again. She’s startled again, I bend over again, I smile again. It goes on like this all night. Bang, bang, bang. She’s surprised every time. Eventually I leave out the smiling part, so that the only one smiling in this entire goddam place is that idiot on my badge, whoever the hell he is.

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