I Kinda Suck at this Job!

Just what the Hell was this Damn woman’s agenda? Did she hate all Temps at the office or was it just me?

“It just must be me,” I thought gloomily as I gazed out the office window at another depressingly foggy day in the Big City.

No other employees  – Temp or Full Time had been called into her office – that torture chamber of Torquemada.

Every day I was nitpicked over the quality of my work by Phyllis, the office manager. Everything I did was wrong or not up to Company standards. Hell, the bitch even complained about my work clothes. 

I still couldn’t figure out why she became almost rabidly hysterical over my “Krusty the Klown” tie I wore yesterday to work. 

Every day almost on the hour that primly dressed, orange-haired witch would poke her head out of her door demanding me to step into her office.

Sighing I would place a purloined office paper clip into my copy of Helena Blavatsky’s “Isis Unveiled” and shuffled into her office.

“Yes, Phyllis?”

The Inquisition would begin:

“It has come to my attention…that on January 3rd you omitted a comma out of Mr. Janolari’s memo – fifth paragraph, second sentence.”

Good Grief. January 3rd was over forty-five days ago. This woman was just looking for trouble.

“Ok.”

“We have very high standards here at Palm Tree Credit Union, ” she said steepling her fingers. “I could report your disappointing performance to “Helping Hands” Temporary Agency. But, I won’t…this time.”

“Ok.”

“That is all.”

“Got it.”

I went back to my desk to answer the phones and get back to Blavatsky. No one rang my phone extension and Blavatsky was laying it on thick about “Secret Chiefs” materializing from the Cosmic unknown when…

“Charles, could you step into my office, please.

Back into the lion’s den, I went.

“It has come to my attention that…you dropped a paper towel on the floor of the break room and neglected to put in the proper receptacle.”

Well, at least this was a recent event! 

So, I apologized and then hid out in the men’s bathroom for the remaining ninety minutes of my workday. At the stroke of five pm, I bolted from the building and took the Muni home.

Pretty soon – my wife – Esposa “Numero Uno,” not to be confused with Esposa’s “Numero Dos” or “Tres,” began to notice my reluctance to get out of bed and go to the office.

“C’mon, Charles get out of bed. We need the money.” 

“Alright…I’ll get ready. How about some coffee while I jump in the shower?”

Yes, back in the 1980s – twelve bucks an hour was a veritable King’s Ransom for basically doing nothing but sit on my ass. However, with each passing day of my ninety-day Temp assignment,  I felt more diminished and depressed. The damn money just didn’t seem worth the constant browbeatings I received on a daily basis.

I suppose every man has his breaking point a moment where he can’t take one more arduous step. And I’m willing to bet that even Sisyphus with his never-ending boulder rolling one day said – “Awww Fuck it!”

My breaking point was over “Coffee.” 

Years before coffee became a “thing.” I was a bit of a coffee snob. None of that canned garbage stuff for me.  I ground my own French Roast beans in a small bean grinder and made each mug individually. 

Office coffee was anathema to me. A tasteless, bitter, overheated brew that was better used as a hardwood furniture restorative than anything fit for human consumption. 

So it was on day thirty-seven of my captivity around 11:19 am that I was once again summoned into the lair of the Cyclops.

“Charles, it has come to my attention that you have been using filtered water out of the water cooler.”

“That’s right. Filtered water makes the coffee taste better. You lose the chlorine taste.”

“You need to stop that practice, immediately.”

“Why, is that, Phyllis?”

“Because it’s wasteful and I want you to stop.”

“No.”

“What?!!!”

“I said, No. I don’t think I will.”

“Well, in all my years I have never…”

“You’re type never does. It’s a byproduct of egocentric onanism.”

“What is that supposed to mean?

What it means is – “I Quit.” My replacement will probably here tomorrow or first thing Monday.”

The sun was shining as I exited the building. I breathed in a deep liberating breath of relief. A great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. 

A stack of unpaid utility bills awaited me at home. But they could wait another month to get paid. 

A streetside coffee vendor sold me a cup of dark roasted coffee. I did a quiet celebratory toast before taking a sip. 

Damn, that coffee tasted good.