I always figured I was dumb, not the smartest boy in class. They gave me C grades out of pity. I didn’t understand what I read while other kids thrived at the same material. The faculty held me back in remedial classes.

I remember the basement in the hall back in high school. That was where those classes were. I didn’t belong there either. I didn’t belong anywhere. I was unique like that. There were no windows. The gum was on the walls. Graffiti stained them, too. Who the hell did I belong with then? Certainly not the gifted kids. They took the GATE classes. Gifted And Talented Education. I had friends who took those classes. It was hard to relate to them when their education was so much higher.

But my mother called the school and told the principal to pull me out of those remedial classes. It was for the better. The most humiliating class was the woodshop because we had to build little bookshelves for the teachers and give them to them. Or the other shop where we had to make coffee mugs. We didn’t learn anything except a trade. And I imagine a lot of those kids grew up to become students at trade schools. Good for them because they’d acquired a skill for a career while I went to a junior college and a state school for my higher learning.

It didn’t get me far. I did, however, take internships. But they didn’t pay me, and they never got me anywhere in the company. So I moved back home without luck finding a job. Maybe I was too dumb. I could never formulate a resume. I didn’t know what skills I had, if I had any. My self-esteem was too low.

My psychiatrist said I thought I was incompetent when I really wasn’t, but I didn’t trust him. I really did think I was incompetent, and I still do. I have a job, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I pretend to know. I’m pretty good at that.

But anyway, being dumb has its perks. I accept less responsibility because people pass me up when they need something, and I can just stand and watch other people work. And maybe I’ll leave early.

When I leave somewhere, like AA meetings, I don’t stick around to stack the chairs. It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s that I don’t know how to do it. How do you stack a chair? I tried it once, and I couldn’t fit it onto the chair beneath it. It kept falling off, so I said forget it.

So here I am, dumb as can be. And I’m not alone. Dumb people surround the world. They’re all about. If you don’t believe me, visit any social media site and read the comments. People don’t know how to spell bike for Christ’s sake. At least I’m not that dumb, but I’m not too far off.