Dating : Office: A short story

A sycophant sitting on my left is particularly annoying today. I find him mediocre but an excellent ass-kisser. He seems tired as if he has a hangover. He makes ugh and agh sounds. I feel obliged to socialize with him, but as soon as I look at his imbecile face, I decide to be uncivil this morning. The boss whom I met in the bathroom walks past and winks at him. He flirts back, smiling at her. He may as well have literally kissed her bottom. I don’t know who I should feel sorry for, as they are both competitively disgusting.

Someone approaches me. I pretend to work but he notices that I am just typing random alphabets on Notepad. After a moment of awkward silence, he asks me to collect some laptops from the fifth floor. I get excited that I have a legitimate reason to walk around the building. I climb upstairs. I see someone fighting on the phone. It looks intense, so I am instantaneously drawn to it. Some words like socks, hospital, and I-told-you-so bounce off the cement walls, getting amplified. I stand soundlessly and listen to the echoes of rage and frustration. The man soon notices me and mutes himself by covering his mouth. Losing interest in eavesdropping, I finally decide to do my chore.

I arrive on the fifth floor and find where the secretary is. When I ask her where they keep laptops, she hands me a key and tells me they are in the small cabinet. I open the cupboard and retrieve two ancient-looking laptops. They are so heavy. When I try to leave with the two laptops the secretary grabs me and asks me to write down who is borrowing them in her book. I don’t think anyone would want to steal these metal junks. Miss, it’s cautionary. She doesn’t seem to appreciate my sense of humor. I realize that I don’t remember the guy’s name despite working in the office for more than four months. I sign my name in the book instead. I go down and give them to him. He doesn’t even say thank you.

I look down through the window. People wearing suits will pour out onto the streets at the same exact time. Elevators crowded, restaurants without empty seats, and waitresses going insane, yelling at people who are holding up the line. These people probably have problems of their own. That one looks like she hasn’t been laid for a long time, that one looks like he was scolded this morning, and that one looks just utterly lost. Nonetheless, they dance to the same rhythm of the city, marching with no direction, no purpose. That’s what makes us so identical and so unbearable.

My boss cannot shut up even during lunch. Her frivolous laughter echoes in the office, in the elevator, in the restaurant and now in my head. She sees me eating silently. Silence provokes loudmouths like her. Miss Y should go serve in the military and learn how to behave in front of her superiors including me. I pretend not to hear her, wishing this conversation would cease before starting. But she continues. Look at him, she points at the sycophant, he went to the military service and he knows how to treat his superiors. Is she being serious? I am so befuddled that I don’t even know what to say. The sycophant proudly smiles as he is being pointed out, and I am yet again appalled by his stupidity. Who would want to make love to that moron? This poor thing will die a virgin.

Then one male employee retorts. Women should never go to the military because then nobody would want to date her! Just imagine all these women, standing in a row, and bullying the younger newbie: You shouldn’t draw eyebrows because it’s only allowed for sergeants. Yes, ma’am. Can’t you speed up removing your make-up? Sorry, ma’am. His ridiculous female impersonation makes everyone laugh. She turns red and snarls at him. He is laughing so hard at his own joke that he doesn’t notice it. Everyone is so ridiculously pathetic, it’s like watching a freak show. I too laugh, not with them but at them.

I get into a trance state watching endless numbers on my Excel sheet. Incessant typing noises in the background are becoming almost relaxing. Typing sounds, occasionally interrupted by my boss’s demonic laughter. Phone ringing and people picking up after it rings three times. People walking and running outside the window. Cars coming and going. Maybe it is traffic lights that are orchestrating the city, not humans.

I try to interfere with the rhythm, like a kid touching the surface of the water to make circles of currents, surprising the fish moving so randomly but also so predictably. I silently stand up, look around, and make funny faces. I stick my tongue out, I roll my eyes, I frown. I mouth the words ‘fuck you all’. Nobody looks up. I want to laugh out loud.

Then my office telephone starts ringing. It has never rung before. I stare at it for a while and once it is clear that it is not going to shut up, I finally pick it up. The secretary’s angry voice rings in my ear. Miss Y, where the hell did you put the laptop? I tell her I will come back to her after asking the guy who requested them. I walk to his place. He seems annoyed by this simple technical question. I told you I returned them before lunch. I say thank you which I do not mean at all and call the secretary again. Miss Y, you are being irresponsible. We are missing one and I will not stop until you find it.

I go upstairs to try and calm her down and to remind her that even if there is a psycho who has a perverted fetish over old electronics, or, God forbid, an insane man who has a morbid obsession with the triviality of the company’s internal business and dares to steal the laptop, I’m still not responsible because both laptops were signed and returned under someone else’s name. She is too psychotic to be persuaded. She repeats and yells her nonsense, and I slowly lose my patience. She blames me but I never say sorry because I am not, which, interestingly, seems to fuel her rage. I finally tell her I will go down to search again and call her back, just to make her stop yelling. I go to the toilets and sit down to urinate. I am so tired of everything. I accidentally press the bidet button on the toilet seat. Before I can do anything, the toilet starts shooting water at me. It feels like it’s urinating back at me. I laugh like a crazy woman sitting on the toilet with my pants down.

There is no laptop. I start to wonder if it was a figment of my imagination. The secretary calls me back again. This time she is screaming through the phone, that I am irresponsible and clearly do not understand the gravity of the issue. Her nagging exhausts me, and I play Microsoft Minesweeper while she expresses her frustration which is totally unrelated to me. Could you at least tell me what I can do for now, at the moment? It’s already 5.30 pm and, as you know, I need to leave soon. I hear her breathing deeply trying not to explode. I cannot tell you how to find a missing object, Miss Y. I cannot believe this! I feel like I am trapped in Kafka’s short story. But I don’t stay longer to look for the missing laptop. That’s not on my contract. I pack my stuff to start my commute back home. People sitting next to me watch me in shock as I walk out of the door at 6 o’clock sharp.

I cannot think of anything else. My commute back home is filled with endless thoughts. It’s certainly not so boring anymore. First comes anger. How can that old bitch be so stupid? It’s clearly not my fault. Then comes frustration. What if they make me pay for it? That would be unfair, I am already being underpaid! Lastly, sadness comes.

I return home and crash onto my bed. The shock makes a rabbit plush tumble down a pile of stuffed animals sitting next to the pillows. I pick her up and talk to her. Can you believe this is happening to me? The rabbit is silent. I hug her and cry. Her cotton fur absorbs my salty tears.