This choice: “Mind telling me where my new office is? I have an actual job here, you know.” • Go Back...Chapter #4“Mind telling me where my new office is? I ha... by: batman1   “Helloooo? Paging Mrs. Watson!”
Snap! As soon as your fingers clicked together, Candice jolted out of her embarrassed stupor and re entered reality.
After waiting ever so patiently for your new office location, you decided to be a bit more direct with her.
“W-what happened?” She stammered, still at a loss of words while you still had plenty of ammunition to shoot at her.
Deciding not to waste your time humiliating her even more than possible, you simply repeated the question in more blunt terms.
“My new office. It should be logged in to the system now. The system is in that computer. You do still know how to use a computer, right?” You repeated the question in an increasingly patronizing tone.
Narrowing her eyes at you, she bit her lip as she contemplated saying something that would not end well for her before thinking better of it.
Turning back to the keyboard, she entered in a rapid fire combination of keys and pulled up the employee directory on the screen.
“Room 45B. Second floor. Have a nice day, Mr. James,” she told you curtly, before starting to turn back
But you weren’t done just yet.
“You will too, Mrs. Watson. After you do me a small little favor,” you smiled, as she rolled back around begrudgingly to face you.
“Which is?” She scowled resentfully, clearly hating where this is going.
“There should be about five or six clients coming in today to discuss their business with me. I need their contact information and financials on record before they leave. Also, you might’ve been too busy reading People magazine last week to notice but I’ve got a stack of reports to go just itching to be printed at the workroom and taken up to my office. Last but certainly not least, I need a new latte after this one. Whipped cream, soy milk, you know the routine. And I need all this done before noon. I got a schedule to keep. Got it?” You instructed, barely concealing a smug smirk as Candice frantically scribbled her list of tasks down on the back of her hand with a Sharpie.
“Anything else, master?” She grated sarcastically, as you took another sip.
“Put a smile on, Candy. Jeez, make people actually want to talk to you before they do and quickly regret it. But it’s the thought that counts, right?” You smiled, taking one last shot before pushing off the office desk and heading for the spiral staircase.
“You can’t honestly expect me to do all of this in three hours, do you?” She called after you as you twirled around on your heel and leaned in for the punchline.
“Well, I guess you know your role now, huh?” You told her simply, relishing her infuriated seething as you walked towards the spiral staircase.
Feeling rejuvenated with Candice finally humbled, you mentally scratched that accomplishment off your bucket list as you bounded up the stairs with a confident spring in your step.
Reaching the second floor within seconds, you checked your watch nonchalantly as colleagues oblivious to your newfound status brushed past you without so much as an “excuse me.”
“They’ll learn to respect me,” you thought to yourself as you squeezed past a conversation between two apparent college roommates reuniting after a life of mediocrity.
As you rounded that familiar corner and reached the left wing of the floor where your new office was located, you came upon your next victim.
Helena.
She was the office janitor, and not a very good one at that. Your old office was a virtual pig’s sty when she was supposedly making her rounds over there. For the longest time, you never knew why she had such a hate-on for you but in between meeting with clients one day you spotted Candice and Denise talking with her outside the ladies bathroom. Whatever lies those two idiots planted in her hollow skull must’ve stayed in, because she’s been shooting you daggers ever since. And today was no different.
The brunette custodian immediately perked up from her usual sweeping duties as soon as you came around the corner. With her black hair tied in a bun and worn sneakers adorning her feet, she wore an unflattering gray janitor jumpsuit that left much, if any to be desired. Wielding a battered wooden broom with both hands, she had just finished mopping up on the floor, and to her credit it was spotless. Well, for now at least.
“Helena! Funny seeing you up here,” you exclaimed with false enthusiasm.
“Well, I do work here,” she replied dryly, clearly not in the mood to be bothered.
“And it hardly shows,” you smiled in return, giving her a condescending thumbs-up as you surveyed her work.
“Gee thanks, James,” she mumbled, before starting to return to her mopping.
“Don’t mention it. By the way, congrats on being finally allowed to sweep the floors of the upper levels. I guess those extra sessions with Mr. Richards finally did pay off, huh? And I guess its true what they say. One small step for women, one giant leap for gold digging whores,” you taunted mercilessly, watching her facial expression shrivel up in reserved fury.
She was clearly contemplating wiping that arrogant grin off your face with her broom, but thought better of it.
“Don’t you have something important to do or is ‘sexist asshole’ your new job promotion?” She growled angrily.
“Language Helena! Maybe you should speak a little bit more highly of your new boss,” you smirked, brandishing your name tag for good measure.
“I don’t see much,” she shot back, giving you a dirty look.
You probably should’ve let it go by this point, but your newfound power trip was a well-earned one. After years and years of taking their B.S., this was a second chance to get comeuppance on all the feminist bitches who ever tried to keep you down.
“That’s funny coming from you, Helen. I mean, that is some kind of irony that a janitor who probably dropped out of high school is telling the new VP in office that he doesn’t amount to much, don’t you think?”
Rolling her eyes visibly, she begrudgingly started to return to her usual mopping but you were having just too much fun.
Walking past her, you suddenly staggered forward and in a dramatic motion spilled half of your latte on the same floor tiles she had just made immaculate seconds ago.
Feigning surprise with the subtlety of a child actor, you gasped dramatically as the brownish liquid began seeping over the tiles while Helena was absolutely livid seething in your direction.
Visibly incensed at the sight of you purposelessly desecrating her life’s work, she looked liable to hit you with that same broomstick.
“Oops,” you shrugged nonchalantly, quickly dropping the act and sidestepping the growing brownish black puddle.
“So after you finish cleaning that up, I need my office spotless in about twenty minutes for my first client today. Try not to miss anything,” you told her simply, before walking away as if nothing had happened.
Ignoring her not-so-subtle cursing behind you, you fished in your front pocket for your new key as the 45B door plate came into view.
Literally at the door of opportunity, you anxiously inserted the key in and waited for the unlocking mechanism. As soon as you felt the door partially open, you pushed it open and entered your new throne room.
It was everything that you hoped for and then some: a plush couch to the right, a mini-library of office textbooks and your own personal selections, a polished office desk with three chairs for clients and a manager’s chair for yours truly, a water dispenser to the left, a refurbished computer, not to mention a glass window with a bird’s eye view into the parking lot, not to mention plenty of walking room in between.
After years in the making, it was finally official: you had arrived.
Circling around the office desk, you almost openly shed a few tears as your dreams and aspirations finally materialized in the polished wood that you could now run your fingers along. For years you had been told by those feminazi bimbos that you would never reach this pedestal of higher authority, that you didn’t have the testicular fortitude to even try. And now, you did what those morons said you couldn’t, and it felt damn good.
Practically collapsing into the manager’s chair, you heaved a sigh of relief as you dissolved into the hospitable cushion with not a worry in the world.
Staring up at the ceiling fan rotating moderately on its axis, you couldn’t help but let a goofy grin escape your lips as the spinning blades send a refreshing breeze down to greet you.
Placing your latte on a drink coaster, you stretched your fingers expertly before pressing the power button on the monitor and booting the computer system up.
As the screen pulled up, you entered in your username and password before reaching in your pocket and producing a small flash drive, a little bit of an “early birthday present” for yours truly.
Plugging it into the monitor as the home screen materialized, you tapped your fingers patiently on the office desk before the files on the drive commenced its downloading.
Glaring at the multitude of books that adorned your shelves, then at a giant framed portrait of some abstract Picasso painting, you were finally at peace with your work environment.
No putrid smell emitting from the trashcan that Helena “forgot” to take out, no more jealous coworkers trying to leech off your success, no more bad luck.
Now and forever, it was smooth sailing through an ocean of well-earned rest and relaxation.
And nothing could change that.
Knock Knock!
Just as the files finished downloading, a set of knuckles gently banged against your door.
“Come in,” you called, checking your watch to see if the first client had arrived. Not yet that time, you shrugged as the knob turned and the door opened, revealing: | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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