I know I am currently suffering from hypomania. It’s not pleasant but one of the funnier effects is lack of inhibitions.
This manifested itself in the pub yesterday afternoon. I’d been trying to enjoy a quiet pint but it was marred by a group of about eight young men in suits, slick haircuts, reeking of Lynx Africa.
They were gathered around a slightly older fellow, all slicked back hair and pin striped shirt, who was ostentatiously holding court. In a loud voice, he was delivering a motivational speech to his acolytes, apparently about what it takes to become a ‘coach’ (of what, I do not know). It will take sacrifices, he said. Your girlfriend won’t understand why you spend so much time at work. Hell, if she doesn’t understand that this is the sacrifice you need to make to bring in the big bucks then maybe you should question if you even need a girlfriend holding you back?
You need to be hungry, he exhorted them (although I hope they weren’t that hungry because the portion of sweet potato fries I received was measly). You need to be prepared to eat, sleep and shit work, if you want the sweet sweet reward of dollar. On an on he went, while they gawped open mouthed at his increasingly ludicrous proclamations.
In the end I could take no more. I had to leave anyway, so as I passed them on my way out (clutching a bulging Primark bag, which I’m sure added to my air of gravitas) I interrupted the Alpha and addressed myself to the group.
“Excuse me, I’ve been listening to everything you’ve been saying from over there, as this gentleman’s voice is quite loud. I just need to let you know that he is talking absolute bollocks. I’m a coach myself (I’m not; I don’t know why I said that) and he – gesturing at the shirt – is an utter bellend. Have a nice evening”. And I sashayed from the pub.
Not really sure what it was all about, really. But if I’m going to go publicly and embarrassingly mental then walking up to knob heads and informing them they are talking shite seems quite a productive channel for my energies.