I very rarely tell jokes at work because out of the twenty or so coworkers who I regularly speak with, few can make the distinction between when I make a joke and when I am serious. I have known for a long time already about the existence of a metaphorical switch with which joking can be turned on or off. Up until a few years ago I tended to leave this switch in the ON position because I enjoyed making others laugh, even if it was at my expense. I love to laugh so much that, historically, it has mattered little if people laughed with me or at me. This has been my reality since I began experimenting in earnest with basic word formation. Life is an absurdly short thing and every ounce of fun that can be had should be had. This life enhancing attitude (or destructive, depending on your view) changed six years ago when I took a job in Estonia and relocated there to be with my partner with whom I was expecting my first child. My thirty year run as a comedian was abruptly ended by a language barrier. Not at home but at work. It affected me considerably and my personality changed. I ended up a fairly quiet and nearly invisible nobody in an call center dotted with dull grey cubicles. I have taken damage from all this, I know it. It's a hell of a demand to impose on oneself; to contain and control a seemingly infinite supply of wordplay and spur of the moment jokes, and in an environment that provides more opportunity to let them loose than, quite frankly, someone like me should have to endure.
I found a way to vent all this unspent comedic energy. I signed up for a Facebook account, and for three years or so I used this website as a vessel for my dangerously suppressed sense of humour. I didn't plan it this way. It just became clear after a few weeks of use that I had access to some of my old audience and not before long I began peppering my Facebook page with increasingly tasteless jokes. Then I fell into a habit of trying to be politically correct. I started making lists from the people in my contact list, categorizing them if you will. These people can take crude jokes, these people can take religious jokes, these people have no conception of fun, ad infinitum. Eventually I did away with lists all together and just hammered my page with any and all jokes until the bar got too low even for my own peculiar taste. There was never any real feedback anyway except for the occasional bits; "That's fucked up", "lol", "Don't go there, man". In the end I was again laughing alone; not just in my mind but in cyberspace.
It could be argued that a funny guy has been subdued by the "elements", but in all honesty I feel relief. Nobody at work expects me to make a wisecrack and when I say something it is taken somewhat seriously. I don't really give a shit either way since I want to keep a low profile and just get on with it. It would be wrong to say that my sense of humour has been obliterated. It's very much not the case. It's just that I have finally found out how to work that elusive on/off switch. My near and dear will never have want for my brand of humour, be they in the polar regions or in the sweltering heat of the American south.
PS. I just made a joke with a colleague over the company messenger. She didn't get the music of what I was conveying at all, but rather started to analyze my words to try to turn them into real world data. Perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment