Mercia (my neighbour) did not make it onto the regional finals of the national talent show. She is having a meltdown. One of the judges made fun of her and the other sarcastically suggested she try out for Circus So Lame.
It seems she has taken his words to heart. I try sincerely to soothe her and cast around for any of the usual excuses that might make her feel better.
“Maybe they were looking for someone younger, you know how ageist people can be ,“ I offered. She nodded still sobbing into my couch scatter cushion.
“Maybe this time they wanted a black winner, you know with all this BEE stuff they are under a lot of pressure to choose a black person.” She sobbed even louder into the cushion.
I felt I should NOT mention that her act was appalling and she really should be grateful that their decision saved her from national humiliation.
Her ultra boring husband is no doubt thrilled to have his garage back for his train collection. I decided on my final tactic.
“Mercia you should be very proud of yourself, you tried and you put your heart and soul on the line and millions of other people are just too damn cowardly to even try. You are very brave and courageous.”
Finally I detected a decrease in her emotional angst. Whew! I hope she is back on her anti-depression meds - she might need them now more than ever. I suspect a mid-life crisis brought on by her children flee-ing (yes flee-ing the nest).