Wherever I Go, the Sugar Follows

There aren’t many people who’d move house based upon an addiction to chocolate, but you don’t know what it’s like. I don’t know why I keep buying it, and I don’t know why I keep eating it after I’ve bought it, but that’s the way it is. I’m caught in a cycle of destruction.

That is, I USED to be. I specifically chose a place where the kitchen window is positioned directly in front of a busy shopping street. I’ve taken down the curtains- because who needs curtains in the kitchen anyway?- and now the fridge and cupboards are in full view of everyone. If I want something unhealthy, I have to go and grab it in front of everyone. Sounds awful, and it IS awful. I haven’t touched chocolate since I got here.

Of course, my brain is grasping for sugar hits in other ways. I had to go into the conveyancing office to sort out my vendors statement, and I ended up by myself for a few minutes in an office with a bowl of breath mints. I took one, hoping it’d be the kind that are far too strong to have multiple at once, but no. They were your garden-variety chewy mints, so very satisfying to eat and perfect for shoving into your mouth.

I tried to resist. But then, my brain plays the most nefarious tricks. ‘This is a property document! You need a sugary jolt so you can look over this vendors statement and make sure everything is okay! Take the mints, take them now, or your property documents may not be in order!!’

I ate all the mints, obviously. And I’d go around to every single of the best conveyancers Melbourne has to offer, to eat their mints, because I have a serious problem. So, the next step is to lock myself in the apartment, only have food delivered, and have my receipts sent to Mum so she can pinpoint anything unhealthy. I’ll detox. But a bit of chocolate might help me look over this vendors statement, because it’s quite important to my financial future NO. Have some self-control, Alex, for heaven’s sake.

-Alex

Sandrine, Finished by Conveyancing Stress

What we always feared has come to pass: Sandrine has had her nervous breakdown. None of us really liked her before, and after the hostile office takeover she turned into even more of a paranoid control freak. Still, we didn’t want anything horrible to happen to her. Practically every meeting one of us said something to the effect of ‘Sandrine, you need to take a break’ or ‘Sandrine, did you actually sleep last night or did you spend the entirety of your time away from the office rearranging the office kitchen cleanup schedule?’

She had, of course, done just that. I told you she had a chronic micromanaging problem. And now it’s all come to a head, during a meeting without one of our important Bentleigh conveyancing partners. That’s already stressful enough- for Sandrine, anyway- since conveyancers are some of our best clients. I think she was up all night going over her speeches, and all the figures…actually I know for sure that she was, because I woke up to all the emails sent throughout the night. Like, we’re pretty good at conveyancing matters already, since we work with them a lot. Conveyancing is not a challenge. It was a routine meeting anyway, and not something that threatened to snap our two companies in twain or whatever. But then Sandrine breezes in, trying to make it look like she had it all together. She looked really terrible, actually. She starts the meeting, fumbles through her statistics, seems to go into a fugue state for thirty seconds, and that’s it. She just goes quietly off the deep end, can’t respond when talked to and had to be taken into hospital.

I mean, we all knew it was coming. Now we have an interim office supervisor until someone more permanent can be found, and things are a lot more chilled. Oh, and our relationship with the conveyancing people is undamaged, because they all know Sandrine by now. So many emails, to every conveyancing company, Malvern to Mentone. We were all on the Sandrine train together, it seems…

-Alvin