I Not Help You
In a soft voice of a whisper to a lover, he said, ‘Because you are an idiot.’
To most of my friends, I come off as someone who likes to fight with airlines, delivery services, couriers, online stores, visa centres, gyms, insurance people, banks — pretty much any business that has some form of customer service.
The Deliveroo courier took more than 20 minutes? I message support, demanding a refund. The low-coaster airline told me I was on standby and couldn’t board the plane until everyone else boarded it? I get furious.
Why do these things bother me so much, I don’t know. When the Big Things happen, e.g., I lose a job, get divorced, or lose a lot of money on a bad investment, I am stoic. Calm. Composed. I focus on the next steps and being the quietest man in the room. It’s the little things that get to me, like getting my toe hit on the coffee table in the morning or falling ill right before an important meeting or wearing a sweater that’s too cold or too warm for the weather outside. The latter is the worst in London, where you can never trust the forecast. If it says +18C and 80% chance of rain, you have to be prepared to walk in a T-shirt with not a cloud in the sky.
I was once sitting in a cosy-lit bar in Mayfair with my friend. I had just finished telling her a story about my recent…