by Laila Cole
***
I showered, dressed myself, and headed to work. I didn’t want to be late again and needed to catch Jeff early. The later the day went on, the more of a dick he usually became. And I was tired of dealing with dicks.
I walked towards his office only a few minutes after he’d started up his computer. He was leaning back in his black leather chair waiting for Windows to load up. I knocked lightly on his door. He didn’t even smile at me. In fact, the asshole sighed. “What is it Davenport? Can’t you see I’ve just sat down?”
He had so many pet peeves I’d lost count. “May I close the door?” I said.
He sighed again. “Sure, but make it quick I’ve got emails to catch up on.”
I closed the door and sat in one of his tiny chairs. “I need to take some time off work. I have some personal issues that I need to attend to. I appreciate your understanding of this situation.”
He laughed, spinning a pen around his fingers. “Who said I appreciate your situation? I certainly didn’t. It never ends with you, does it?” He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Well, it’s ten minutes into my day and I’m officially annoyed. What exactly do you want?”
“I need two weeks of sick leave. You don’t even have to pay me.”
“Two weeks?” he said, his eyes expanding like balloons.
“Yes. Two weeks.”
He paused before responding. “No can do Davenport. We’ve got a business to run here at Schuster and Sons.” He pulled up the human resources system on his computer. “It looks to me like you don’t have any sick leave left. That makes sense given that you’re hardly here.”
“That’s not true.”
“The system wouldn’t lie now would it?”
“Come on Jeff. I work hard here and you know that. I don’t want to beg but I really need these two weeks.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “And I don’t care.”
My blood began to boil. “Ok. Can I just get a single week then?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not until you’ve accrued it in the system.”
“But I need it now. Can’t you just deduct it from my later accruals.”
He leaned back in his chair, interlocking his hands behind his head. “Go on, take your two weeks, but don’t bother coming back when they’re done.”
“What?” I said. “Are you firing me?”
“No. But you’re going to get with the program, or you can get out.”
Physical revulsion crawled through my gut. My hands shook and my skin oozed sweat as I looked him in the eyes. “Fuck you, Jeff Tompkins. I quit!”
He laughed. “Good. Now pack your cube up and leave. I’ve got other things to do.”
I stood up ready to spit in his face; or better yet ready to pull out the canister of mace in my purse and spray it in his eyes. My mind raced for a response but instead I turned away and grabbed the door handle, turning it. I looked back at him. “I know deep down you’re just a miserable bastard. You can try to hide it, but to treat others like you treat me is a testament to the shallowness and filth that is your character. And as far as I’m concerned, you can go to hell.”
I pulled open the door with force, stomped to my cube and began to clean it out, only taking the things of value that I’d brought over the years, and there wasn’t much. I would be sad to see the flowers wilt and die, but they couldn’t come with me.
Susan walked over as I stuffed pictures and various trinkets in my purse. “Did I just hear what I think I heard?”
“Yes, you did. I quit!”
She smiled. “Bravo, Ms. Davenport. Bravo. I only wish I had the gumption to follow you.”
“You know what Susan. It feels pretty god damn good. You should follow me; this place isn’t worth whatever they’re paying you.”
“One day. But for now I’ve got a hot pink dress I want to buy and I need the money,” she said laughing.
I laughed in return, and then my eyes drifted to the one last picture on my cubical desk, it was one of Steven and I in Cozumel. I picked it up and fought back a wave of tears. Nostalgia urged at me to take it with me, but instead I threw it in the trash. I didn’t need pictures of Steven where I planned on going. I turned to Susan and gave her a hug. “I’m going to miss seeing your face every day.”
She laughed. “No more than I’m going to miss seeing yours. Go on now; get the hell out of here before that bastard comes back out. Or before I cry. I’m not sure which one will happen first.”
I nodded. “Do not cry. It’s not worth your tears. I’ll be in touch, babe.” Susan smiled, placed her headset on and went back to her cube. For her the day would continue as they always did. But for me, well I was taking a detour, a 3000-mile detour to New York City.
TO BE CONTINUED AT YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER
