Fourty Five and One Hundred

“Well,” I said, “if it is that difficult to do, don’t bother with it. In fact, I have about 20 people waiting in line to take your place Mr Kaur.”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the man standing in front of me. He was short, wearing an oversized blazer, and his wispy hair was strewn all over his forehead. His eyes were wide as he looked back at me in disbelief.

“Are you firing me?”

I sighed and leaned forward, resting my chin on my left fist. “Quite the contrary,” I started scribbling on the note pad in front of me. “How old is your daughter Mr Kaur?”

“Four.”

I tapped my pen on the table. “Well then, I won’t fire you. I’ll just recommend you to terminate your contract with us. That way, your four year old won’t have to see her daddy suffer with a boss from hell like me, a boss who would eventually fire that dear little girl’s daddy.  That, would be a whole lot less embarrassing, won’t you agree Mr Kaur?”

The poor man seemed to shake in his shoes, either he was so scared that he was trying to control his pee, or that he was so angry that he was about to blow his top. Either way, I couldn’t care less. “You have one week to leave. Have a nice day Mr Kaur.” I turned my attention back to the stack of documents on my table.

“You… You are such a…a…” he stuttered.

“Bitch?” I glanced up at him. “I know, heard it a million times.”

He fumed.

“Would you like to exit the ‘Bitch’s’ office?” I commented, flipping through the pages that I was intending on working on the whole morning.

He stormed out.

The silence in the room was calming, until my phone vibrated and created an annoying buzz. I rolled my eyes and answered the call.

“Jean!” shouted the voice over the phone.

“Lloyd.”

“We have a problem.” My older brother explained the situation like a bullet train.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that the bakery burned down, and we don’t have the cake for Dad’s birthday. Is that it?” I confirmed calmly over the phone.

“Yes! You’re not concerned or nervous? Why are you not nervous? We have 50 people coming for Dad’s 100th birthday and we don’t have a cake and you are talking like everything is going to be okay!”

“Lloyd, just order a cake from elsewhere.” I suggested, rubbing my temple.

“Jean, no one can make a 5 tier cake in a mere few hours!”

I sighed. “It’s just a stupid cake. We don’t need one.”

At that, Lloyd spewed out a long string of obscenities. “Seriously Jean, you’re such a bitch!” He slammed the phone down.

I was getting really tired. I knew I was usually called a ‘Bitch’ for many obvious reasons, but this wasn’t one of them.

I flipped open my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart, a number I always called whenever I felt down. 

“Hello, Hot residence. Don’t talk if you’re not hot enough,” the familiar voice rang out over the phone like a beautiful lullaby.

I smiled. “Dad… You’re gonna have to stop saying that, your aged voice is giving you away.”

“Aww Jean, let an old man have his fun will ya? Buck Williams may be old, but he is still up, hot and running! I’m kinda like wine you know? I get better as I age. Any wine as old as me would be proudly sold for thousands! Millions even! Unfortunately for the market, I’m priceless,” Dad chortled.

He always cheered me up, no matter how bitchy I was feeling.

“To what do I owe this honor of you calling me sweetheart? I’d be seeing you tonight no?”

“Dad, I’m such a bitch,” I exclaimed over the phone.

“And why is that Jean?” Dad said slowly and calmly; he always used this tone whenever he knew I was talking about something serious.

I swiveled my chair around and gazed at the skyscrapers planted outside my window.

“Jean, you there?”

“Yeah Dad, I’m here.” I coolly explained to him what happened, and as usual, he listened patiently. 

“Ah, let Lloyd say what he wants sweetie. You may be a bitch to him, but you’ll always be a puppy to me. And you’re right! It’s just a stupid cake. I’d rather a daughter who doesn’t buy me a cake but is always there for me, than four sons who buy me a 5 tier cake and disappear till the next festive season hoping that the cake will redeem them. I’m getting old Jean. I have better things to think about-,” Dad coughed, “than whether I get a birthday cake.”

“Dad, you ARE old, not getting there. I am getting old, at 45 years old, without a husband and children. Plus, it is important to have at least a big something that everyone can share and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ around. I mean, you are the fittest old man I have ever seen! At a hundred years old, you are still walking your equally old dog, and being a nice man to all the nice old ladies in town. You deserve it.”

Dad chuckled. “I guess I’m still the hot shot! A slow walking one though,” he paused, “And Jean, I think I know how to solve your problem.”

“My problem?” I didn’t quite get it.

“You need a husband to cure that bitchiness of yours,” He burst out laughing at his own joke, “Ah, Jean. You are just like your Mom, she was tough on those around her, even to me! But I’m a cute little marshmallow on ice cream, she couldn’t say no nothing to squish me.”

I burst out laughing till my sides hurt.

“Dad, I know what to do. Lets get you a hundred mini cups of Ben and Jerry’s.”

“As long as you’re there sweetie.”



Word Count: 1000