The Future of Retail
This isn't a blog post about the future of retail. The role of the title in this blog post is not to to attract or inform but to chronicle. This is a blog post about mental health.
It was June this year I was sat in an office so open plan that even the distant horizon was lined with desks. It was late in the day, and the employees were going home or somewhere else to enjoy the June English heatwave. I had earned my seat there by saying shit like “I was drawn to the opportunity”. I had decided that any society that makes someone feign interest in the changing nature of retail is unforgiving, yet perfect for my personality that doesn't like it when I'm invested in something.
I sat listening to two lads in their 20s talk about the future of retail, in their free time. They were passionate, intellectual and genuine. Ideas, opinions and direction were bouncing between them. It was just me and those two around, and I felt so uncomfortable sitting there. I was clearly listening their conversation but was adding nothing. I had nothing to say. So I just sat there, wishing they wouldn't say anything in my direction, but also mad they didn't see me as worthy enough to join in. I felt contempt for their passion, their spark and their intellect. I didn't belong there. But I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere. That's why it hurt.
I need some passionate social intercourse.