<< Previous Episode | Next Episode >>
The instant messaging window is blinking again. It's Sally.
u busy? she says.
I think, Of course I'm not busy. What do you think this is, a factory? I am a knowledge worker. Since I know nothing, or almost nothing. It follows that I can't do real work, or almost no work. The pay is not bad though.
Sally is waiting for my reply.
I type, Yep.
really busy? she says
I type, well, not really.
I type, but I wanted to ask you about before.
Before? she says.
I type, Earlier, the message you sent.
I just got here, she says. I start to wonder if worrying so much about a simple message makes any sense at all.
I type, Really.
Yeah, she says. Then she says, Why?
I type, Emmm... nothing. Don't worry.
I look at my watch. It's ten past five. In about half an hour my manager will walk around the office handing out last-minute assignments. This is his way of compensating you for your hard work. The more hours you work, the more work you get. One of his theories is that whoever works overtime is a slacker. It's true. Nobody has ever been able to follow his reasoning on that one.
Time to leave, then.
I type, sorry but have to go now. l8r.
l8r, she says.
I close the window.
What I'm worried about now is, first, she wasn't there before, when the mysterious message was sent. Second, she didn't seem too surprised about what I said. All of this sounds awfully strange to my tortured mind. I should have asked her who else could use her computer. And she said she had just arrived? At five? I'm such an idiot.
I have to talk to her. I look at the instant messaging window again, but suddenly she goes offline.
What the hell? This truly might be a case of a few neurons misfiring. Hallucinations can seem quite real, they say. In fact, if it's a true hallucination, you shouldn't be able to tell what's real from what's not, right? What does that say about reality?
I turn off the computer, and look around to check I'm not forgetting anything. It seems not, although it always seems not. I walk out of the office.
oOo
By the time I walk out of the building it is already dark. I look at my watch. It's eight twenty.
In the end, I couldn't evade my manager. I was waiting for the elevator, which had apparently been fixed. I heard the ding-dong, the doors opened, Tony walked out of it dispensing How you doins and sideway smiles and everybody else rushed in, ignoring him. Being the polite creature I am, I let them elbow and curse each other. Then when I was about to step in I touched the side pocket in my pants.
The keys. The doors closed. Tony was standing, looking at me and smiling like an idiot. I ignored him. Eventually, he left.
I had to go back. Going back into the office when you've already left for the day is an operation that requires courage and cunning. SEALs have been known to fail this task. You think slipping by armed Russian sentinels is difficult? Try my manager.
I snuck in without much trouble, but as I was leaving I heard The Voice.
It said, Leaving? So early?
I turned around. My manager, Ted, was there, smiling broadly, a smile as natural as plastic and instant cement.
Hi, Ted, I said. Yeah, I was leaving. I had to...
That's great, he said. Great. But I needed you to help me with some reports we're finishing. Can you do that? Or do you really have to go? If you really have to go, it's no problem.
Of course, it's no problem, I think. Then I'm out of here. See you tomorrow, I think.
No, it's okay, I said.
Why the hell can't I say no, you wonder? Simple. If I say no, tomorrow I will find a ton of extra work to do. Ted's theory is, if you leave early it is because you didn't have enough to do. He is very convinced of that particular theory. It was in a book, he'd say. I didn't come up with this. If he's not in one of his biodegradable days, he might even quote the person that told him that they'd heard about it being in a book.
So we had to do the stay-late-and-put-out-fires routine a few times a week. Four or five times. Never more than six.
And so it was that I left three hours after I planned to. Luckily I don't have much of a life. No plans were ruined. Something good did come out of this, though. Walking through the city at night is an old favorite of mine. I stand outside the building and breathe in the first moments of fresh, cool evening air. I set the backpack, a bit heavy with the contents of the package, properly on my shoulders. I look up, around, at the lights as they grow brighter as the night settles in.
I walk.
<< Previous Episode | Next Episode >>
7:29:35 PM 
|
