How To Succeed At Failure Without Even Trying (2)
"Is everything alright?" Kirsty asked in a pleasent, calm tone of voice. I frowned, puzzled. "Yeah." Kirsty exploded. "WELL STOP FUCKING LOOKING AT ME, THEN!" she shrieked, at the top of her voice. I sat, stunned. There was silence, then a few titters from other areas of the room. Kirsty went back to work, apparently calm once more. Me? I just sat there, feeling utterly humiliated and completely gobsmacked. The drama continued for the rest of the day. Comments passed between Kathryn and Kirsty indicated that I was considered a "potential stalker". Wednesday and Thursday continued the pattern of Kirsty alternately ignoring and insulting me. Thursday evening, I made a big mistake. Feeling hurt, vilified and unjustly besmirched, I decided to ring Kirsty again and sort out what was clearly just a ridiculous misunderstanding. "Hello?" "Hi, it's Ian." "Oh, hello Ian," a laugh; surprised but friendly. EXACTLY the same way she'd greeted me before, rather unnervingly. "I was just wondering..." I tried to sound light, concerned but amused. "Exactly what I'd done to piss you off?" "Why me?" Kirsty demanded. I was taken aback. "What?" "Well, Kathryn and Kathy are pissed at you, too. Why single me out?" This comment chilled me. Firstly, it wasn't true; Kathryn being pissed at me was certainly news to me, she'd been the same as ever, and Kathy was, well, Kathy. Furthermore, that "single me out" comment hurt. I wasn't trying to pick on her, for Chrissakes, forgive me for committing the cardinal sin of LIKING her! "I just want to know what I've done," I told her. "How did you get my number?" Kirsty demanded. Now, credit me with a little common sense here. If she'd gone out with me and we'd gotten on, I might have told her, but telling her I'd looked her up in the Electoral Roll was, at this point, clearly not going to be a smart thing to do. Besides, she HAD mentioned where she lived to me and could hardly know I'd forgotten that information. "I looked you up in the phone book." "Yes, well you just don't DO that," Kirsty said angrily. "It's invading people's privacy." Forgive me for saying so, but this left me utterly flabbergasted. Looking someone up in the PHONE BOOK is an invasion of privacy? Like, since when? Could someone please tell me what the hell the phone book is FOR, if NOT to look up someone's telephone number? Of course, I didn't say that to her, I was just too flabbergasted. "Oh...okay...sorry. Bye," I mumbled, and hung up. I couldn't believe it. She hated me because I'd looked her up in the phone book? She hated me because I rang her up?!?!? It struck me at that point, for the first but not the last time in the weeks to come, that Kirsty was completely nuts. Off her rocker. Doo-lally. Round the proverbial bend. It also struck me, for the first but not last time in the weeks to come, that I had exceptionally bad taste in women. And my second phone call - you know, the one aimed at clearing up this 'silly misunderstanding' - had enraged Kirsty's already unbalanced sensibilities still further. Because from now on, it was war. CHAPTER 7 : War Zone Over the holidays, we had lost two of our group. Carol and Greta, two of our middle-aged ladies, had quit. Carol had gone MIA in the last week of Term 1 but was only confirmed gone this week. Greta, however, had, bizarrely, decided to move back to Ireland in the course of two weeks! Accounting does strange things to the mind... Was that Kirsty's excuse, I wonder? Friday morning, the war began in earnest. Kirsty's first act was to grab Kathryn and take her outside, no doubt telling her I'd been threatening to kill her or something. All was quiet on the Western Front in Computing, but in Communication all flamin' Hell broke loose. Kirsty not only changed seats, she changed tables, to half a room away. Kathy, of course, asked her why. I tried telling Kirsty there was no need for this, and she went absolutely mental (again!) There was shouting galore, and practically everyone in the course, with a few exceptions, knew what was going on. Simon asked me what was going on. I told him I'd phoned her over the holidays. Simon frowned. "Why?" he said. (I was becoming increasingly worried by him.) The gossip spread like wildfire. "Do you like Kirsty?" Rebecca (the other one) asked. "I did!" I retorted. The controversy continued. "She just wants you to leave her alone," Kathryn told me, seemingly implying that I HAD been threatening her! "Fine," I replied. "She leaves me alone, I'll leave her alone." "All this over a phone call," Simon snorted. "Are we still in Year 10 or something?" I just rolled my eyes. Kirsty, however, was in no mood for humour or truces. "You're never ringing me again," she said ominously. "No shit!" I replied. That Friday was one of the blackest days of my life - and the most degrading. It was like your worst nightmare of what would happen if you asked a girl out, a worst nightmare you convinced yourself would never happen in reality. The embarrassment, the humiliation...thanks a lot, Kirsty. Saturday was my traditional day in town with Michael, and I informed him of the week's events. He too was flabbergasted, and agreed Kirsty's reaction was extreme, to put it mildly. It was here we coined our nickname for Kirsty, a nickname that had endured to this day, and sums up her and the mood of that six months perfectly: Psycho Girl. Saturday evening. As usual, I am watching a film on video with my brother, Richard. The telephone rings. Call it instinct, a psychic premonition, or just plain paranoia, but somehow I knew I'd better be the one to pick up that phone. We interrupted the movie ("Rampage", I think it was) and I answered the phone. "Yes?" "Ian?" A man's voice; unfamiliar. "Yes?" "Just a little message, vital for your health: Stop harrassing, get a life - and get fucked." The phone went dead. I told Richard it was a wrong number and sat in silence for the rest of the film, chilled to the core. It wasn't so much the threat - the guy doing it had sounded distinctly unsure of himself and somewhat less than menacing (I suspect it was his first time) - it was the MEANING of the call. That Kirsty hated me and FEARED me so much she felt she had to get some punk to threaten me to leave her alone. It was unbelievable, appalling, horrendous. I was typically flippant about it with Michael, who was amazed at this latest twist in the tale. "It's my very first threatening phone call," I commented. "Should I be proud?" The whole situation had gone from bad to worse. From absurd to nightmarish. Whatever feelings I might have still had for Kirsty, whatever doubt I may have had that my actions may have been inappropriate or misinterpreted, had disappeared with that phone call. She was way out of line. And way out of her mind. And I wanted nothing more to do with her. Ever. Monday morning I left home the regular time, but sat and watched my ordinary train leave without being on it. I was going to be deliberately late, turning up in the middle of lesson - and sit as far away from Psycho Girl as I could. I wasn't even going to glance at her. No way was I giving that crazy bitch more ammunition for her 'harrassment' fantasy. Unfortunately, being deliberately late was harder than you might think. Although the next train I caught was fifteen minutes later, because I usually arrived early I ended up STILL arriving ten minutes early, and ended up feeling vaguely ridiculous loitering in Rundle Mall for about half-an-hour, then running in to college, arriving breathless and saying "Sorry I'm late, I missed my train." The plan backfired as Kirsty wasn't even in the room! (Though she was there that day, tragically). The fireworks, however, were over. I ignored Kirsty and Kirsty ignored me. The screaming had stopped. Now the awkwardness and uncomfortableness could begin. CHAPTER 8 : Muirden Place By the middle of the second ten week term of my six-month course at Muirden Business Studies Centre, I was beginning to wish I'd never gone on it in the first place, and cursed my mother for ever seeing that damn ad in the paper in the first place. The whole thing was a disaster. For the first week after the fireworks with Kirsty, I arrived not late but ON TIME. 100% on time. 9:00 on the dot, not a second before. I wasn't going to be near Kirsty any longer than I absolutely had to. The war with Kirsty left Kathryn caught in the middle. Clearly wanting to support her friend yet obviously not thinking of me as a maniac like she did, Kathryn tried to resume communication between us in Computing, commenting "We saw you in Rundle Mall." Unfortunately, I did not see it as an olive branch. I was feeling sensitive and hurt and, at that point, had brandished Kathryn with the same brush I had Kirsty, so I was not overly receptive to her. "Shoot me," I sneered. Understandably, Kathryn rather took offence at this and disappeared behind her computer terminal. I instantly regretted being so short with her. The plan to arrive at 9 etc also had a knock-on effect on my relationship with Becky, meaning we talked to each other less than we had, and to my surprise I found I rather missed our conversations, trivial though they usually were. This, coupled with the fact I was getting rather sick of sitting cold and vored in Rundle Mall, meant that the following Monday I thought "Fuck it!" and went into college at my previously normal early time. If Kirsty didn't like it, tough shit. Let her get her thug to ring me up again, next time HE'D get a fucking mouthful. Needless to say, Becky was there. I gave her a rueful grin and, sitting next to her, yelled as my back touched the wall. I proceeded to remove imaginary objects from my back - "Just taking the knives from my back," I told her. Becky grinned. We proceeded to discuss the situation, me commenting "Anyone would think I was Jack the bloody Ripper" and was rather relieved Becky was still on my side. At that point, I needed all the friends I could get. By mid-term, it wasn't just the relationship between me and Kirsty that was strained, though. Accounting was getting more and more difficult, and more and more people were getting more and more behind. Kathy was insulting and abusing me every other day, and practically everyone was expressing dissatisfaction with the course. One Friday I was caught in the middle of a war. Thankfully this did not involve me - had nothing to do with me at all - but nonetheless I was the one caught in the storm. The relationship between Bindy and Jane had deteriorated now beyond repair, to the state where they were the bitterest of enemies. Now, I have to stress, I had no problem with either of them - both of them had been perfectly pleasent and nice to me, Jane in particular - but they absolutely HATED each other. One Friday I arrived back from lunch to find Bindy the only one already in the class. I took my usual seat, two seats down from her. Less than twenty seconds later, Jane entered. She didn't, however, sit down quietly. She began to shout at Bindy, making all kinds of accusations (I can't remember what it was all about), Bindy attempted to be calm and placatory, Jane told her to stop patronising her and continued yelling abuse at her, Bindy lost her cool and started yelling abuse back, and Jane started positively SCREAMING at her and threatening to "Take your fucking head off right here and now if you want". I, of course, just sat there and goggled. At one point in this tirade, Becky and the others arrived, but stood at the door, not wanting to enter. Becky goggled at me. I goggled back and gave a little shrug. Finally, Jane stopped screaming and stormed home. Bindy, sniffling, went home soon after. Nobody could quite believe it. We sat in silence afterwards. I think we were all in a state of shell-shock. Becky said I'd looked utterly gobsmacked sitting there in the middle of Jane's tirade. I said that was probably because I was. Helen said she couldn't believe the tension on this course, saying it was straight out of a soap opera. "Muirden Place," I suggested. Helen laughed. "Muirden Place," she chortled. "I like that." As the weeks dragged on, relationships and the general mood of the group worsened. As Helen said, "I can honestly say I've never been on a course where morale was this low." Quite. On the positive side, Kathryn and I got back on speaking terms, with a few amicable chats and smiles. One time we landed each other as partners for 'mock interviews', and I was cracking jokes and making her laugh like nothing. I was flirting with her something rotten. I guess I figured I didn't stand a chance in Hell now anyway, so what did it matter? That said, the friendlier we got and the tension fading, I began to wish I'd simply stayed friends with her and ignored Kirsty in the first place. With hindsight... My relationship with Kirsty did not improve. At all. That is, we didn't have a relationship. Of any kind. We didn't speak. We didn't acknowledge each other. I made more and more bitchy comments about her to Becky. Sometimes, when the other group had been in our room, and swapped my seat for a hard one, I'd steal Kirsty's and give HER the crap one, making a malicious wisecrack to Becky. One time, Becky didn't see the joke. "Oh, come on," she snapped. "Don't tell me you don't still like her." I didn't quite know what to say to that. I guess I wasn't the only one with a really shit love life. CHAPTER 9 : War Is Hell "Are you alright, Ian?" Jane asked me when we were alone in the classroom one day after lunch. "Sure. Why?" I replied. "No..." Jane paused. "It's just...you just don't seem as happy as you used to be." Gee, I wonder why?!!??!!? As we reached the final three weeks, Becky, Diane and the ever-irrepressible Helen (if she were thirty years younger...) became my 'comfort zone', the only three people I felt truly at ease with. Even Simon was becoming a pain, while Kathy had finally lost her marbles entirely, and burst into the category classified as "Bitch", while she, Kathryn and Kirsty had acquired the name of The Klu Klux Klan - the KKK - Kathryn, Kathy and Kirsty. This wasn't very fair to Kathryn, who at least spoke to me without insulting me (even Vicki had described her (to me, alone) as "Adorable, isn't she?" Was she playing matchmaker? If so, she really, really SUCKED at it) but my mindset then could hardly be described as charitable. On the day of the photographs (yes, just like in school!) Kathy reached fever pitch. "Are you getting a photo, Ian?" she asked, bitchily. "So you can point and go 'Look at her, I had a crush on her for six months'." This was LOUDLY, in front of everyone (save Vicki). "Yes," I replied, finally getting utterly sick and tired of being insulted and humiliated every day. "And I'll be able to say 'And that was Kathy - BITCH FROM HELL'." That got quite a response. Ten minutes later, Kathy was off again, saying "You know, Ian, what you really need is a life." "You know, Kathy," I replied, pleasently but equally loudly, "what you really need is a muzzle." The class went "Oooh!" Kathy, at last, shut up. Lunchtime, I was, as usual, eating my chicken leg in the bowels of the Myer Centre Food Hall in Rundle Mall, when I saw, with dread, Simon and Kathy. Simon was drawing money from a teller machine. Kathy saw me and wandered over. I braced myself. "Hi," she smiled. "Listen...I'm sorry for picking on you all the time. Truce, okay?" "Sure," I replied, affecting disinterest. Returning to class after lunch, I confided in Becky and Jane. "You'll never guess what happened to me this lunchtime," I said. "Kathy APOLOGISED." "What?!?!?!?!?!?" Jane and Becky reacted with utter disbelief. "I could hardly believe it myself," I told them. "It won't last," Jane predicted darkly. It didn't. However, it lasted until the following week, and even then Kathy's insults were weaker and more diluted than before. The week of Kathy's shock apology brought an even bigger shock, however, one that made me shiver with rage. Kathryn dumped her boyfriend. Yup, ol' Kathryn gave her fella the big heave-ho. Which meant, had I not spent the last five months chasing and humiliating myself over her best friend, it would have been a great time for me to 'move in' on her. Unfortunately, I HAD. So it wasn't. How could I? I'd already humiliated myself enough. Kathryn had seen me balls up over Kirsty, give Kirsty that stupid freakin' Easter Bunny...how could I possibly expect her to now say yes if I asked HER out? Answer: I couldn't. So I didn't. If only had I hadn't transferred my affections from Kathryn to Kirsty. If only I'd simply stayed Kathryn's friend, letting her know I was interested, giving HER that stupid bloody Easter Bunny, just riding it out and taking hope in Kathryn's disparaging comments about her boyfriend and letting her know there was an alternative...if I'd done that, just WAITED, instead of leapfrogging my very real affection for Kathyrn to a manufactured one for Kirsty, then now, as she dumped her boyfriend, I might have been able to ask her out. And I might even have stood a chance. But not anymore. I'd blown it. Big time. Any chance I ever stood with Kathryn was well and truly gone, obliterated by my infatuation with Kirsty, and Kirsty's completely insane reaction to it. I ached for her, I longer for her...and I'd fucked it up so utterly, that, even as my fuckups go, this fuckup impressed even me, so utterly complete it was in it's fuckedupness. The next week Kathy quit the course. Two weeks to go and she went. Nobody was exactly weeping at her departure. But if I thought it was smooth sailing from now on, I was wrong. For a chilling transformation was about to take place. Simon was to change...into Kathy. Not physically, of course, but in terms of making my life hell, he might as well have done. His version of "Let's make Ian cringe today" was not the straight-out insults of Kathy, but far more insidious; constantly making referring to, and making fun of, the tension between me and Kirsty. And not to me, for I was seated away in my comfort zone, but...to Kirsty. Simon clearly didn't know what he was dealing with. Kirsty seemed amused at first, all smiles and polite laughter. I headed for cover, and just hoped to be well clear of the explosion when, inevitably, it came. CHAPTER 10 - Goodbye, Farewell - and Thank God! The end was in sight, but the nearer freedom became, the longer the days seemed to drag out. One incident, just before Kathy left, hurt me particularly. For some goddamn reason, dear old Mrs Willis (Becky and I had taken to calling her "Mrs Paddock", after a demonic teacher in an "X-Files" episode) decided to test us on our spreadsheet skills by getting everyone to go to each other's computers and put down our names and addresses (needless to say, Kirsty and I studiously avoided each other). What hurt was Kathy filling in several names on mine - including Kathryn. Fine - except Kathryn's address was fake, as I accidentally discovered when looking at Helen's computer. "What is she playing at?" Helen, no great fan of Kathy (who was?) wanted to know. I shrugged. It may have been Kathy's idea, but Kathryn was part of it, and that hurt. It was obvious why, of course. I liked her, and after Kirsty...well, it was pretty clear she wasn't interested. But I mean AS IF I would have rung her up anyway, after Kirsty...I'd made a big enough ass of myself as it was for one year. I looked at Kathryn and shook my head sadly. I expected such mean-spirited childish shit from Kathy, but Kathryn...the incident stuck in my throat. At the end of the lesson, after we'd been forced to print out the completed spreadsheets, I asked Mrs Paddock (being careful not to give her my pen) what we should do with them. "Throw them away, if you like," she replied. "I take it you're not sending anyone here a Christmas card, then?" I looked at her in disgust. "I don't think so," I said, with as much contempt as I could muster. As we reached the final week, one thing became very clear: I was not going to pass the course. Not the Accounting part, anyway. I had already passed everything else, enough to get me a "Certificate in Clerical Studies", but I had another full section and exam for Accounting to get through, and I couldn't even do the exam for the section I was on. I failed once, tried again, failed again. The Monday of the final week, Vicki said "We can arrange for you to have one more go." "I don't really want to," I told her, feeling very tired. "Okay," Vicki replied. It's difficult to describe how bad I felt at this point. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Kirsty, Kathryn, Kathy, Becky...and the actual work itself had me at the very edge of my tether. I just wanted it over with, yet I dreaded saying goodbye. Becky had been saying things like "If we still know each other when we're sixty" and I had a terrible feeling she was going to ask me out again before the end of the course. It wouldn't surprise me if I wasn't on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I wasn't sleeping, coming to college in a morning filled me with dread...Knowing it was nearly over was all that kept me going. If it had been a (God Forbid) 12 month course, I'd have jumped off a freakin' bridge at this point. And then there was Simon, who finally stepped over the line on the Monday of the final week, pushing barmy old Kirsty over the edge with a comment about "Perhaps you can go bowling - with Ian." Kirsty lost it (Vicki was in the room this time, hearing all of this) and yelled at Simon "Shut it! Just fucking shut up, will you!? I'm sick of fucking hearing it! I don't want anything to do with Ian!" Simon reacted with an expression of such eye-rolling, over-the-top mock horror, I probably would have burst out laughing had I not felt so humiliated. The following week was to be a special evening "Graduation Ceremony" at a nearby hotel, where we would all go with our parents, sit together and get our certificates. I looked at this idea with as much dread as execution. No way was I sitting for an evening with these assholes, especially not with my parents, from whom I had managed to keep all this embarrassing madness. I told Vicki I was going away that weekend and would come to college pick up my certificate later on. I don't think Kathryn believed me, but at this point I could not care less. I'm sorry, I've missed a bit. Just backtrack a few weeks. It's not relevant, but it is an amusing incident and an indication of how bad morale was in our group. In one Computing lesson, the Headmistress came in, wanting to talk to us all about our attendance. But she didn't...because there weren't enough of this there! This incident provided Helen, Becky and I much merriment for several days. Anyway, back to the present. In one similiarly underpopulated Computing lesson, Simon and I had a conversation over Kirsty etc. Jane joined in. "Yes, Ian," she said, mock-disapprovingly. "What were you thinking? Ringing up a girl to ask her out? How could you?" "I know," I replied, shaking my head, equally deadpan. "What a bastard." Thursday. The penultimate day. Nothing much happened, save one classic moment from Simon. With most people (including Kirsty and Kathryn) out of the room, Simon was looking around, clearly bored. Seizing the White Pages, he heaved them over to me. "Here," he said. "Go and look up somebody on the course." It was cruel and sick, but I laughed like a drain. I don't know why - I think maybe I just needed to. Friday the 5th of July 1996. The day I had been longing for what seemed like forever. The day I left Muirden. I left at 12 o'clock, after a short few lessons and goodbyes. Mrs Hood gave us a mug to say farewell. There was no grand farewell with Kathryn or Kirsty. Kathryn didn't even turn up, so I didn't even get to say farewell. I didn't WANT to say farewell to Kirsty. She WAS there, but (aaahh) was out of the room when I left. I did, however, get to say goodbye to Becky, Helen, Diane, Simon and Vicki. Vicki's goodbye was particularly amusing. "Well, it's over," she said, enthused. "But I have to say - and I can say this in all honesty - it HAS been a great six months." One wonders if she'd been on the same course as the rest of us. Simon's goodbye was abrupt. "See ya," I said. "Yeah, see ya," he said gruffly, and left. That was that. And finally there was Becky, Helen and Diane. Three people whose friendship, comfort and support had been the only things preventing me from completely cracking up over these last few difficult months. I stood, feeling a little uncomfortable. I couldn't wait to get out of there, but at least a small part of me was genuinely sad to be farewelling these people - particularly Becky and Helen, whose support and irrepressible humour respectively had kept my spirits up in some dark hours. "Oh, well," I said, finally. "Get a job. Be happy," I waved a hand. "Bye." "Goodbye!" they chorussed. And then I went. I left Muirden for the last time, heading for the train, and I didn't look back. At long, long, long, long last, it was over. Over. I had to return the following week to pick up my Certificate, but that took two minutes, and I saw no one I knew. So Friday really was the end. I cannot describe how good I felt walking home, knowing I never had to go back there again. Man, that felt good. As of late February 1997, I have not seen one person from that course. With the possible exception of Kathryn, I can't say I'm sorry. I was looking forward to being on the dole again. And indeed, for about a week, it was fun. And then it wasn't. But if you want to read about that, an ever-escalating depression, an embarrassing Christmas card, and the beginning of the end of my friendship with Michael, you're going to have to wait. 'Til the next time...
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Copyright © 1996 Ian Kidd |