I WOULD PREFER NOT TO…

I WOULD PREFER NOT TO…
or the real personality of Bartleby the Scrivener

88_88Back in my office, just after Bartleby’s death, an idea suddenly surfaced in my mind. I had gone through his desk, I had meticulously observed his behavior, but I had never tried to turn on his computer. As one of my clerks, he had his own professional computer. I had no particular hope or expectations. I did not imagine I would find anything interesting since I had never seen him using any electronic machine and I could not remember him using his computer. Yet, my curiosity was piqued and this computer was standing just next to me, in an outrageously tempting way. After all, it was my computer, Bartleby was my employee and it was completely legitimate for me to know how he used his work tools. Therefore, without any feeling of guiltiness I opened his laptop. I was stricken by the aspect of his desktop wallpaper : no image, nothing… only one icon, an internet browser. Not knowing exactly what else I could do, I clicked unthinkingly on the only icon. I was automatically directed on Facebook.
Oh shock ! Not only had Bartleby a Facebook profile but he seemed to have also a social life, photos, and even friends ! I was not surprised though by his profile’s picture : a dark grey brick wall. He did not seem to appear on any photo. However, his Facebook’s “wall” was covered with a mass of messages from friends : Lena writing that she had spent a wonderful night chatting with him, Chris praising his sense of humor, Tobias thanking him for his friendliness, or Cécile describing how charming their conversation had been the previous night. (I have taken here the liberty to rephrase the different notes, given that the quality of the language was not always very good and the tone mostly informal – probably some young foreigners). These people were obviously not only Americans. How could Bartleby - a speechless, sad, and dull young man - be so different on internet? He seemed to be another person : the doctor Jekyll of the Mr. Hyde we already knew. Who would have imagined that this man spent his nights on internet conversing with people from all around the world, when he could not even pronounce a word in the daytime? And then I suddenly realized that his perpetual reveries, his “luny” appearance (as would say Ginger Nuts), his nonchalant attitude, his eyesight problems could result from his intensive use of the web, from his real – though numerical – life. Suddenly I felt very sad for this young man.
But as I discovered later, the reality was very different. His comments on Facebook taught me indeed the real reasons for his behavior :

______Bartleby is glad he has been fired from his shitty work.
______Bartleby has decided to reconvert has a scrivener.
______Bartleby has just tried amphetamines : he is so that excited he cannot stop writing and working all day.
______Hell, these pills have a very long effect !
______Bartleby is now part of the society of the joyful junky drunk scriveners.
______Bartleby feels stone tonight : he has definitely given up amphetamines and prefers marijuana.
______Bartleby has bought 5kilos of Marijuana and wants to share with friends.
______Bartleby has nearly been caught red-handed on Sunday by his boss while he was organizing a weed-party with friends.
______Bartleby hates his crappy work and is going to stop every activity except smoking
______Bob Marley’s fan club has invited Bartleby to the “weed, tea and spi/ace cookies”
______Bartleby intends to hassle everybody at work (in particular his stupid weak boss), refusing to work, move or speak
______Bartleby wants to be the worst parasite and free-rider on earth.
______Bartleby seems to be quite successful in his attempts to reach the aforesaid goal to become the worst nuisance
______Bartleby is in trouble now : hopes that they also have drug and internet in jail.

In Fact Bartleby was just a junky and a squatter who deserved what happened to him. He died in prison because he had not his drug dose.
And to think that I had even offered him to live in my house…