sad robot

8:30am and in the men's toilet.

Don't worry. There's no-one else here. Except this little guy.

He's always looking sad. And making strong exhales. And long periods of quiet. Come to think of it, he doesn't say much at all.

I think he's sad because he's not sure what else there is. I think he is struggling to find his identity.

I think his ability to see beyond the current reality is holding him back.

His skills are useful and people benefit. He's even got accreditation to prove his worth.

So yesterday, he tried to connect with the hands he saw. He is a cautious little beastie (some might call him timorous). So he just blew a little tune to try and get their attention.

The flutter of elation when the hands were a little startled, but then carried on. They didn't stop to talk.

The next hands he saw, he tried the same tune. but nothing. Not even a little twitch.

The third set of hands were responsive to the tune, but had no way to respond. He sensed their willingness, but looked on forlornly as the swept away.

And on he went for the rest of the day. Watching hands go by without even getting near. Other hands twitching. Some hands being rude.

He tried to guess which hands might respond. Maybe the repeat visitors. Maybe the well kept ones. Maybe the salty, lived-in ones.

All day, there were hands. And not one sad hello.

He is a sad robot.

He is a Dyson Airblade.