by Mariah Lynde
First thing was handling all the bills that I’d been saddled with in Jim’s absence. While he may not have put in as much money as I had to affording our life, some was better than none at all. Now, having to handle all those responsibilities on my own, I was barely making it paycheck to paycheck. I had enough foresight to plan ahead. When I got bonuses, a little of that money was spent to acquire bulk items to cut down on cost, and maybe give me a small jumping point for my own apartment back home.
So began the process of saving money. I’d pay off the bills in short order and pack away what I could in my savings until the time came for the big move. If my numbers were right, I needed about eight thousand dollars to move back home. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent, plus give me a cushion for utility deposits and about enough money to cover that first couple of months in case there was a delay in pay.
Yet, knowing something and accomplishing it were two different things. Life was life, and just like any other time, there are always pitfalls. It seemed every time I had a little money stashed away, some unexpected expense came along. This last time, I’d been gob smacked with a two thousand dollar engine rebuild on the Explorer. It had not exactly been a welcome interruption, and had set my plan back another six months at least.
Realizing I was stuck in the situation I was in, I had also found a certain kind of catharsis in picking back up my writing. The goal had been to work some normal, everyday job and write on the side. I had gotten it in my head to be the next great female author, but I’d put aside any of my writing or ideas in favor of trying to make a life with Jim work. With him gone, I’d started to compile my lists and outlines once again, working in time to write whenever I could manage. Even at work. It also helped to keep my mind off the complete shit show my relationship with Jim had been.
A part of me was glad it had happened. Not to put too fine a point on it, but being disillusioned about the happily ever after was a blessing. In one relationship, I’d learned about lying, cheating, disrespecting, growing apart, and heartbreak. All of which were things I did not want to encounter again anytime soon. Jim had taught me that people would always try to change you into something you weren’t. Honest to god, I didn’t want to deal with that.
While I could have been blunt about my thoughts on the matter with Isaac, I didn’t see a point. Those particular thoughts about why I was in the IT department and what had gotten me here came with a heaping pile of bitterness and resentment. The look on his face just before I’d sprinted away towards the safety of the elevator had spoken volumes. He wanted to understand and perhaps was genuinely interested in what I had to say, but I planned to go home. I couldn’t invest my time into something that was fake or would be dismissed when I picked up to move on my merry way.
The soft ding of the bell as the elevator car stopped broke the thread of my maudlin thoughts. Sighing a little, I found myself more than grateful for the interruption of my personal brooding.
Finally, twentieth floor.
Pushing my way through the mass of warm bodies crowded at the front of the car, I moved as if my life depended on it. At that moment I would do anything to escape the promise of more teeny-bopper-music-turned elevator sensation, as well as the uncomfortable musings of my own mind.
Stepping out into the small hallway, I could already hear the blaring ring of phones from just around the corner. For a moment, I debated turning around and getting right back on that elevator to ride it downstairs and head home. A thought that was immediately cut off as the chime of the elevator doors closing taunted my ears only to leave me standing there staring ahead with a frown.
Being here was not exactly a highlight to my day. With the safety standards nowadays, it was nearly impossible to find a building that had windows for employees to open on higher floors. The McGinley Building was no exception. A sad fact which guaranteed a moment in the day where one good inhale would assure that you caught the pungent aroma of reheated food or cloying perfume hanging heavily on the air. Such was the price of so many people working in such a small, controlled environment with a lack of moving fresh air.
Drawing in a slow breath, I moved to my right and proceeded up the hallway to turn the corner. Almost immediately I found myself in the open office area where cubicles lined the floor in small rows. One of those simple six by eight boxes would be what I called my personal torture chamber for the next eight hours.
Beginning my trek down the aisle, my eyes scanned the immediate area to allow me a view of today’s lay of the land. To my left, there was the expected sight of Taryn leaning over the cubicle wall while she engaged in conversation with a man I’d not seen before. Of course, she had leaned over enough that the open buttons on her shirt gave an unobstructed view of her rather ample cleavage to the male currently in her thrall. While I may not be a computer whiz, I took my job in the IT department seriously enough that I tried to be professional. I had to give the woman credit, she had certainly found a way to make that polo shirt work for her.
No matter where you work, be it in the fast food industry, or the most posh office in town, it never fails that you encounter a woman like Taryn. What she had done to get relegated to the IT department, I would never know. I could not say that I was all that interested to know. That did not change the fact that I watched day after day as she moved around the office to try and sink her talons into the nearest rising star. If anything, the woman was honest about who and what she was. Not even two days into her employment, she’d announced that she would find her Richard Gere and get the hell out of here.
Today it seemed she was making good on her promise. While she flirted to her heart’s content, I just shook my head. Don’t get me wrong, Taryn seemed a decent enough person. I’d never heard her speak ill of anyone, but the majority of a conversation with her focused on herself or the cost of some item she wanted to acquire. Still, watching day after day as she hit on anything in a suit, married or not, had me avoiding her and her antics as best I was able. I can admit, in part Jim and his new girlfriend were responsible for that, not Taryn. Still, I couldn’t help but feel revolted when I was subjected to watching her plying her wares about the office.
Speaking of, one of Taryn’s high-pitched, overly exaggerated laughs rang out and had me fighting the urge to cringe as I walked by. Not really in the mood to try and act polite, I bowed my head and kept moving, focusing on the worn out gray carpet beneath my feet.
Not that things got any better the farther down the aisle I moved. I had barely taken three steps when I walked straight into the mail cart that was being pushed up the small walkway causing a soft clang. I exhaled in a sudden whoosh as I did my best to recover from my little foible. Now, I stood shaking a little, hands clutching the sides of the small wire mail cart and peering across the stacks of boxes and envelopes into the rather intense gaze of Zane Bridges.
“Um, S-s-sorry, Angel.” A blush crept across those pale, if not somewhat pock marked cheeks as he peered over at me. Despite my own embarrassment, I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. For all intents and purposes, Zane was without a doubt, one of the few decent people here. Sadly, not many people knew that since they chose to ignore him based on his appearance.
With his thick, coke bottle glasses with their thick black frames, the look was only accentuated by the line of white tape that adorned the bridge of those frames. A person would be hard-pressed not to associate him with one of those AV kids from high school that always got picked on. Not that such an image was too much of a stretch. Of everyone in the office, Zane was the youngest person here. At nineteen, he had come here looking for a job to help his mother out in providing for their family. Instead of college, he’d entered the workforce. Now, he worked in this office, where his lack of schooling made him no more than a postal clerk for our floor and others lauded that over him like he was some kind of pariah.
“It’s alright Zane, my bad. I got caught up in avoiding the pheromone cloud.” Stepping out of his way, I scanned the
aisle, making sure I wouldn’t step in someone else’s way. When I turned back towards Zane, he’d already dropped his head forward so I couldn’t see his face, leaving the stringy strands of light brown hair to keep him hidden.
“Heh, I see Mr. Reynolds found Taryn.” He spoke softly, lifting his head as one hand moved to push his glasses back up his nose. I could see the dark crimson flush moving over his skin that only seemed to darken when he peered over at the cubicle in question. As was typical, his eyes had latched on to Taryn while he gave a small, wistful smile.
It happened to be a well understood fact that Zane had been pining for the woman in question since the first day he’d seen her. To hear him describe her, one would think they were looking on a living Mona Lisa. Sadly, he did not make enough money to be even a blip on her radar, so she remained oblivious to his admiration.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seeing the almost forlorn look on Zane’s face, my heart twisted. I knew that look well. Hell, up until a few months ago, I had worn it every single time I ran into Jim and his new squeeze. There was nothing worse than forever standing on the outside and looking in on what you wanted. Sometimes, even if something is bad for you, all you want is to be noticed, to be cared for. More than that, you just wanted someone that you cared for to return those feeling in kind. Moving around the edge of the cart, I moved to pat Zane on the arm. Seeing him flinch back, I sighed, knowing full well that trying to offer any kind of sympathy would be unwelcome. Not that I could blame the guy all things considered.
As the mail clerk for our floor, Zane normally chose to remain cloistered in his office. Since the others looked down on him for how his clothes fit poorly, or his glasses being banged up, or even for the way he walked, he rarely if ever chose to venture out into the main area while people were here. When he did, there would always be someone to needle at him, and honestly, I couldn’t stand to see him bullied. There were a few times some of us had tried to step in, but it had only made things worse for the poor guy, so we stopped, letting him choose his own way to fight that battle. Taryn, while she’d never been cruel, had never thought twice about dismissing his presence, which just made some of those events all the more painful to watch.
As if that weren’t bad enough, there were also the small, social misfires that happened. In a world where people had to be up to snuff with the current trends and in-crowd, Zane stood alone. If and when you engaged him in conversation, no matter the subject, everything came back to one of his two true obsessions: Buffy the Vampire Slayer or BattlestarGalactica. Not that I couldn’t relate, at least in part. I held a special love for both series, I just didn’t use them as my bible…I saved that for Star Wars.
Still, despite all that, I couldn’t help but like the guy. He had a kind of care free attitude that I envied. No matter how much he was pushed around or picked on, when he came to my cubicle to deliver mail, he always did more than just walk by. Even the people who picked on him would find themselves greeted by a small offering or anecdote to lighten their day if it was needed. Not once had I seen him embarrass or insult anyone that worked in the department. Hell, he wouldn’t even complain when people took their bullying just a little too far.
Instead, he walked up these aisles day by day, sometimes whistling a little infectious tune. If it was one of those silent, boring days that had everyone listless, he’d strike up a conversation talking about the newest movie he had seen to get us to act like we had a pulse. What can I say, I always like to root for the underdog. Despite all his quirks, his laid back, giving attitude, despite how he was treated, just made him cool in my book.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” Each word he spoke brought an absolutely nauseating wave of garlic to be inhaled.
“Alright then, you have a nice day.” Fighting the urge to gag, I gave a stilted nod and moved to continue towards my cubicle. While I could feel sympathy for the guy, some things were just too much even for me, and a morning dose of whatever garlic-y substance he had eaten happened to be my line.
Moving further down the walkway, I could already hear Harrison, the man who occupied the cubicle next to my own, beginning his daily routine. A soft crunching sound followed by the crinkle of a wrapper had my stomach spinning and my lips curling in disgust. Every day it was the same thing: Harrison would steadily eat his way through any and every food that had some kind of overwhelming smell. From steamed fish (Oh my god, the microwave that day) to barbeque pork rinds, it was a constant assault of nauseating aromas. Holding my breath as I walked past his cubicle, the sinking feeling in my stomach as I caught a whiff of stale kimchi further confirmed that today would be one for the record books.
Stepping into my own little personal hell, I sighed seeing the manuals and paperwork strewn across my desk. Everything from the phones being used to answer calls upstairs to the printers used in the dregs of the shipping department was held in those ratted up pages. There was a feeling of immense discontent that crept upon me as I looked over the stacks of manuals sitting on my desk. Considering the path of my day so far with the conversation I’d had with Robbie, Isaac’s veering away from our normal daily banter, and my own creeping annoyance - I could only hope time would pass quickly.
Moving to take my seat, I pulled off my ID badge and dropped it on the one clear part of my desk right in front of the keyboard. The soft, snick of plastic clattering down onto the fake wood surface seemed befitting my mood.
Booting up my computer, I spun in my chair a little to eye the small Darth Vader poster that sat at an awkward angle. I’d long ago given up on trying to have it sit level, since I’d broken every rule to try and get it to stay right. From multiple thumb tacks, to tape, and at one point I even used the almighty red stapler – not one had worked. As was to be expected, the Dark Lord of the Sith would not be tamed, so he hung at an awkward angle to remind me of better days. Besides, I was only supposed to use one thumb tack to hold anything on the cubicle wall in place. Sadly, I accidentally deleted that memo.
How easy my life would be if I could force choke people into submission. Staring at the poster, my mind wandered, considering the possibilities while Harrison munched away on some god awful snack that smelled like someone’s gym socks.
As nice a thought as that could be, it was time to get to work. God knew the last thing I needed was another shouting match with the floor manager because I wasn’t logged in on time. Even as the soft beep and chime of the boot process began, the phone to my left lit up like a Christmas tree. Picking up the receiver and bringing it to my ear, the melody of suddenly overloaded phones began, setting the tone for a crappy if not overly busy day.
Chapter Four – For Whom The Bell Tolls
“You’re very welcome, Mr. DeWitt.”
For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, I hung up the phone and glared at the computer screen in front of me. It was four thirty in the afternoon and I would have given anything for it to be five o’clock.
It never failed that I became aware of the time of day a half hour before my shift ended. What made it even more crushing was knowing I had at least another thirty minutes of fielding phone calls from the upper echelon of the building, and not a damn one of them would actually be an intelligent question.
What I wouldn’t have given for a nice mixed drink then. At this point, I wouldn’t have given a damn if it had a pink froufrou umbrella in it, just so long as alcohol made an appearance.
Slumping down in my chair, I let my head settle on the back rest with a small ‘harrumph’. Using my feet to push myself back across the sickly rug, I took a moment to close my eyes and imagine that I was in my recliner at home. God, I would have sold my soul to already be there.
I hated days like this one. Some huge deal that had been signed this morning was causing an influx of problems that had overloaded our department. From computers to copy machines, phones to printers, the whole of the offices upstairs had been thrown into a downward spiral of technological meltdown. Sadly, I have to admit that t
he fault lay more in the people operating said equipment than the machines themselves.
A fact that happened to be why the whole of the twentieth floor was abuzz with activity, fielding the phone calls of the technologically (and mentally) inept. All around the room, from one small cubicle to the next, phones were ringing incessantly. No matter where you turned, there was the sound of technicians and troubleshooters having hushed, muted conversations with the trailblazers upstairs to fix their equipment.
It never ceased to amaze me that no one seemed to care that we were trusting a bunch of people who couldn’t find the power button on their laptops with the well-being of our company. If you think about it in those terms, it’s a very scary thing to consider.
Thinking about the fact that I had been fielding calls pretty much all day, I decided now would be a great time to take a break. Because of the big brouhaha upstairs, there had been no lunch hours today, only fifteen minutes to grab food and get back to our desks. All of this just to make sure the big deal went down without a hitch. Much to my own relief, said policy had given me an excuse to call downstairs and let Isaac know I wouldn’t be able to join him for lunch. While I might have imagined the disappointment in his voice, I could only be grateful that it bought me time to figure out just what I would say to him the next time he brought up the subject he had this morning.
Now, standing up to look around the office itself, I saw forty plus people cramped into half that number of cubicles and hunched over desks, as if doing so would hide them from the world. As I made my way to the break room and the vending machine that had a bag of Cheeze-its just calling my name, I took a moment to really observe the people around me.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn this could be the operating facility of some cheesy, run-down phone sex operation. The room was barely lit, casting a dim pallor over the whole of the work area while people were littered about in all sorts of awkward angles and positions. Some people were working ceaselessly, while others had on headsets and sat propped back in the chairs to give one word, non-committal answers to whoever was on the other end of the line.