Assignment: Inspired by PostSecret

I smile and Nod...

...a short story inspired by PostSecret

(click here to download a printable version)

I smile and nod…but I’m not usually interested in what you’re saying. It may look like it, but I’ve done this so many times before that I know the way the conversation will go. As long as I smile and nod in the correct order then I don’t have to commit any important part of my brain to your miserable little life.

Many people consider this to be a stressful job and wonder how I can ever manage it; but for me it is easy, even almost enjoyable. It is like meditating all day; you become supremely calm at the end of it. I let my brain sleep during the day so that I can think about the important things at night.

Not that life and death isn’t important; but I believe that it is a waste of time being miserable when you’re young just so that you can lead a long and miserable life being old. The families of these poor sods clearly realise this as they dump their so-called beloved parents in this shit hole at the earliest available opportunity.

I don't mind my job, it's not that bad really. I’m very lucky somehow because all the old guys and dears like talking to me so much that it’s usually someone else who has to do the dirty jobs – I’m talking about the toilet here. But even when I have to do it then I’m not particularly bothered. I just put on some latex gloves and do what has to be done.

For most people it would take a lot of money for them to help a demented 80-year-old man go to the toilet. But it doesn’t bother me and neither does the fact that I don’t get paid a lot of money to do it. The basic wage is pretty poor really, and there is a high turnover of staff. People come and go, faces pass by everyday, but like I said I don’t really take any notice of what is going on during the day. It is just a front, a means to an end for my nocturnal activities. For wherever there is a lot of old people then there is always a shit load of drugs.

I’m talking painkillers specifically- Vicodin, Methadone, Codiene and Morphine. What would I want a large quantity of painkillers for? Well to sell: not to users but to dealers. I’m a reliable supplier and in return I get paid – not only in money but in protection, which is invaluable for what I have got planned. Because if it all works out, then I’m going to be pissing off a lot of important people - big time.

So what does drug money pay for? I can’t tell you yet, this is totally top secret. For if anyone found out what I’ve got planned then I would be locked up instantly. But that doesn’t matter for now as another day is nearly over. The end to my charade life and the beginning of my real one.

The security in here is so lax; no wonder I get away with stealing so many drugs. The main doors aren’t even locked on the inside and anyone could just walk out.

“Mr Johnston”

Fuck, it’s Debbie, or Dawn, I don’t take any notice of names. But whatever her name is I’m sure she’s on to me, she always looks at me as if she knows what I’m really up to. I turn round to face her, and give her the vacant look that through time I’ve worked to perfection. She sighs and says:

“You know that you’re not allowed outside without any supervision. And I’m sorry but we haven’t got enough staff at the moment. Come on, I’ll take you back to the day room. And what’s this about you stealing medicine from the drugs trolley? Kim said that she found a load of tablets underneath your bed. You know that you can’t just go round helping yourself. She wanted to report it but I said that you’re such a nice old man, you never hurt anyone, hardly say a word. Just sit there in your chair all day. I often wonder what you’re thinking about… Come on, I’ll take you back”.

I smile and nod.