Na koniec, mam

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 This weekend I finally picked up my old computer from the repair shop. Of course, by that I mean, I walked in upon a disgruntled looking employee, asked for my computer, and received a prompt and savory “Nie ma,” before I could even provide my reservation number. For some reason, people here seem to love not having whatever good or service you seek. The words nie ma—literally translating to “Don’t have,” and roughly to “fuck off”—boils inside them all day, and they clearly relish any opportunity to release these five letters in a seething froth of self-satisfaction. Every time I hear an ecstatic “Nie ma,” the subtext seems to be “Haha! Yes! My exclusive solace in life comes from knowing I have the power to make your life harder. You will keep returning here, everyday, frustrated to the point of psychosis, and every time you enter we will be closing. The lights will be on, the door open, and the noon sun still high above us, but we will be closing, and you will have to keep returning, again and again, in a Sisyphean nightmare of which only we have the power to awaken you.”

But this time I was determined to break through their diabolic time loop, to break the cycle. I physically grabbed the shopkeeper’s shoulder and fumbled through some angry sounding Polish words, carefully constructed so as to remain within the safety of the nominative declension. Her eyes widened, and suddenly I saw a human being behind the system. “Tak.” She whispered, astonished. “Mamy.” My jaw hung slack, useless. We have. I couldn’t believe my ears.

So here I am, sitting in my apartment back in Wrocław, restoring order to my cyberuniverse. My files have returned to me. My life has returned to me. And, contingently, my motivation.

Or, for those of you too lazy to read:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pyly3JtXoy4