Don't Work What It Is

So, there are several regulars at the library, people who come in every single day, whether to read, to study, or because it's a place they can go.  You know what I mean.

Among them is Doris*, a tiny woman who always comes over and greets me, either before or after her visit, expressing joy to either see me here or to be at the library in general.  She is an entirely positive person, with one small caveat.

She always says one of two things to me.**  The first, and most awful is, "Don't work too hard!"  Almost every time we speak, she suggests that I not travail in excess, as if that were even possible where I'm concerned.

The first two or three or seven times she said it to me, I'd try to come up with a clever response, like, "Who, me?  Never!" or "I'm way ahead of you!" or "If I do, it'll be the first time!"  But after ten or a dozen or so times, I just couldn't come up with a cutesy response.  I even started to say, "I barely even work soft" or "No harder than you would," but I'm just not talented enough to keep up a witty repartee with a scene partner who only knows three lines.

DORIS: Don't work too hard!
RISH: . . .

It got to the point where I used to dread seeing her come in, because I knew those four words would follow.  Isn't that neurotic?  But one day I said, "I never know what to say when you tell me that, so I wish you wouldn't say it."  And she stopped.  Not 100%, but mostly.

The other thing she says, which isn't nearly as bad, but means a whole hell of a lot less (so it's worse) is, "It is what it is."  It is her go-to answer for virtually anything. 

"How's your day been, Doris?" 
"Oh, it is what it is."

"Looks like it might snow out there, Doris."
"Well, it is what it is."

"You feeling any better since last week?"
"A little, but it is what it is."

"We've got a wedding reception tonight, looks like they have a DJ."
"I guess it is what it is."

"Dang Doris, all those moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain." 
"Yep, time to die.  It is what it is."***

I don't mean to be uncharitable, but "It is what it is" is one of the stupidest sayings we have in the English language.  Partly because smart people use it a lot, but mostly because it means nothing.  Oh, I know what you think it means.  To me, it's just a made-up saying, a politicians' saying, so that young fellas like yourself can wear a suit and a tie and have a job.  It's nearly as empty as "Thoughts and prayers" and almost as useless as "Choose happy."  

I guess I just wanted to complain.  I am well aware that there are worse things in the world than vampires, or people who tell me not to overwork myself. And when I run into one of them, I'll blog about it.

Rish (Is What He Is) Outfield

p.s.  I interrupted this post to tell a guy on crutches how to get to the ballroom--he had been starting up the stairs and I ran over to tell him where the elevator was and how to get to the larger elevator that goes to the third floor.  But I saw on the monitors that, as soon as he got to the second floor, he hobbled up the stairs to the third floor as though I had never spoken to him.

*Not her real name.  I realized recently that I probably shouldn't be calling people that work with me by their real names, in case someone takes exception with phrases like, "My boss says he's not as sympathetic to drug addicts as he used to be," or "Terence actually believes that the Democrats will steal his children to change their genders," or "Foxy Ellen breaks every single librarian stereotype except that she absolutely will not smile," or "Homeless Hector's body stink usually ensures he has a section of the library to himself," or "Karoline with a K has no idea how much her mere existence brightens my workday."  People have been fired for less, though I personally have been fired for more.

**There are other things she says, such as "It's so good to see you" or "Have a great day," but those aren't weird, so I'm not mentioning them here.

***Originally, this last one was going to be me saying, "Your mother's in here, Doris.  Would you like to leave a message?"  But it seemed unkind somehow--especially so soon after Mother's Day.