It’s exhausting really. Always being the smartest person in the room. Always the most talented. Am I the only one in this ballroom that finds the carpeting derivative? Am I the only one who’s seen those light fixtures before? i think they were used in a fast food restaurant that my competition designed. They’re not bad fixtures, but they don’t come in stainless. Am I the only one to notice that the fabric on the chairs doesn’t match the wood tone of the legs? Who thought of that? what were they thinking?

I’m just happy there’s an open bar. I didn’t want to come to this event, but my marketing manager recommended it. It might be a good networking event. So I put on my black sweater and forced a weak smile. I hate these events. I hate talking about my work with these people. I always get blank stares and awkward pauses as I discuss the hierarchical relationships implied in my latest designs. The tectonic interdependencies between the forms. My arms waving slowly in the air. And I’m met with disdain. With expressions of confusion. It’s exhausting, being the smartest person in the room.

Does anyone else feel this detachment? This isolation? Does anyone else measure time by the number of drinks you’ve had? Does anyone else notice the disorder in the room? The disarray of the forms? The disregard with which the space was designed? The use of beige as is it were some type of weapon. The aggressive blandness? The lack of concept? The complete absence of thoughtful compositions? The use of ivory light switch covers? Am I the only one who suffers at the sight of the off center exit signs?

I’m too exhausted to network anymore. I’ll just stand here in the corner, sipping my drink, and scan the room with disapproval.