Chapter 4 – How This Really Works
I rolled into the office ten minutes late. The city was closed in by dense clouds that made getting out of bed near impossible. That didn’t matter; I was late and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want Riders to think I was a slacker or anything.
I thought hard and remembered some advice that Ankle gave me my first or second day: There are two doors into the office. Ankle told me that no one noticed if you came in late through the door next to the help people. So that’s what I did. I waved at Adrian as I passed by. She didn’t seem to notice me. Lately she was onto some horror podcast by Scott Sigler or was it a superhero story by Mur Lafferty. It didn’t matter much to me, but I had to admit that listening to books at work was the way to go. Right now I was listening to a good one called Seventh Son. I slid into my seat, my tardiness undetected.
I knew I wasn’t going to get much listening time this morning, as we were starting a cross-training program. Everyone in the office was to sit with each other throughout the day so we could learn what others were doing and supposedly increase our production and quality. We only sat with each person for an hour, so you didn’t learn anything from them, but it was nice to get a chance to talk for an hour without getting in trouble. This morning I was to sit with Mr. Fiasco, Junior. and then Chester. Fiasco was the office clown so his nickname fit, and Junior was his best friend. They played flag football together: Fiasco was a wide receiver and Junior a running back. They were supposed to be good, but I didn’t care much for football. Fiasco was average height but seemed kind of small for a football player. I didn’t know much though, so I wasn’t going to make any judgments. His hair was cut extremely short and his teeth were unnaturally strait and white. They seemed to glint in contrast to his dark skin. Within two minutes of seeing Fiasco and his smile, you knew you had met the class clown and he didn’t disappoint. Junior was slightly taller and thinner and his hair was pulled back into a pony tail. It seemed he always had a look on his face that made you think he was up to something. Usually your suspicions were correct.
When I got to Fiasco’s desk, I caught a brief glimpse of color flash across the screen and he turned his chair to face me.
“Oh Morison, it’s just you. Don’t sneak up like that, man. I thought you were Manager-lady trying to bust me for being on ESPN again.”
I laughed. “So is that what I’m going to learn today?”
“What, how to get on ESPN? Do you know ALT TAB?”
“Doesn’t that switch between apps you have up on your computer?”
“Yes, it does and it’s the best defense you have against management here. See, you need to get on and off the web fast, you know what I mean? It needs to be a flash because they are going to be looking, right.”
I continued listening to Fiasco tell me how to get around most of the company’s internet security so I could check my email and play games online. There were still a few sites that were blocked, but I was confident that I wouldn’t be as bored at work anymore. It amazed me how much he knew. He had figured out all sorts of short cuts and his production and quality were some of the highest in the office. Despite all that, the man bragged about being on six fantasy teams.
After Fiasco, it was Junior’s turn. When I got to Junior’s desk, he was ready for me. “Now, Fiasco showed you how this is done, right?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Good. Now I’m here to show you how to find the time to enjoy luxuries like ESPN, ok? I mean, you spend all day gettin' PH’s don’t you?”
PH’s were stats in the system that we logged for our production credit. Each time we completed an audit, we would enter the PH stat. At the end of the day, if we had 18, we were golden.
“Yeah, I guess if you think about it, there isn’t much time.”
He smiled. “And that just don’t work. So here’s how this works; now understand I’ve been here a long time, so you should think of this as kind of an honor learning this after only a month.”
Sitting with Junior over the next little while, I learned more ways to cut corners than I ever thought possible. The beauty of it all was that none of these time-saving maneuvers actually affected any of the audits so our quality people would never find out.
Next, it was onto Chester’s desk. Chester did not have a whole lot to teach me, but I did learn that he was convinced that the world was out to get him. Apparently, he had discovered that management had a meeting every week. He thought it was solely about him and they just said it was a weekly planning meeting. But oh no, he was on to them.
“Don’t look at me like that. I can prove it, Bill.”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “You remember last week when I got all of those policies that I had to make phone calls on?”
I was surprised to hear myself whispering along. “Yeah.”
“Well that day I saw Pam and Manager-lady glancing at me and talking low and then…”
“What?”
“Then I got all those crap policies. Don’t you see? There out to get me. They want my production and quality to tank so they can fire me.”
“You mean Pam, the team lead over customer service?”
“Yeah.”
Granted, I had only been here a short while, but to my knowledge she had nothing against Chester. I shook my head. Pam and Manager-lady were longtime friends so I was sure they talked a lot at work.
“Chester buddy, I know that Conspiracy Theory was a cool movie but honestly man.”
“So what, you think that I’m making this up? Your one of them, aren’t you?”
I rolled my eyes. “You found me out. Oh no, now all of our plans will be ruined. What ever will I tell the Velvet Hand?”
“What’s the Velvet hand?” he asked looking suspicious.
I acted shocked. “You figured it out! The name of our organization, the one that’s plotting your down fall!”
Chester gave me the middle finger. “F you dude.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I stood up, went back to my cubicle, and IM’d Yoda to see if he was ready for lunch. Yoda and I had become quick friends and we went to lunch most days. We invited Chester, but he brought his lunch and sat in the park. Sometimes Ankle and Adrian would come with but mostly it was just the two of us. Today, Ankle was busy for lunch but Adrian joined us.
There wasn’t much of a fast food selection next to the Riders building, which was a little astonishing to me. It was located right by a high way. There was food next to where we worked but we only took a half an hour for lunch. We worked right off of I-25 and Orchard but all of the good places were around Dry Creek, which was only two exits down from us. Panera, Spicy Pickle, BW2’s—all so close yet so far. I could almost taste the wings at BW2’s as I sat in Yoda’s car. Our only saving grace was Good Times, and we usually saved it for special occasions or when one of us was having a bad day.
“So where do you guys want to eat?” Yoda asked.
“I don’t care whatsoever. Bill do you have an opinion?” Adrian asked me.
“Today is a Good Times day. I don’t think I can make it though the afternoon without a Big Daddy bacon burger and some rings.”
They both guffawed. Adrian asked, “Did Fiasco and Junior give you a hard time?”
“No, but I think Chester thinks I’m in a clandestine organization called the Velvet Hand that’s out to get him.”
“That’s too funny Chester cracks me up, but is that all?”
“No, Larry told me I had to sit with Star Wars this afternoon.”
“For how long?”
“’Til three.”
Yoda almost jerked the car off the road as he held back his amusement. “That’s going to suck man.”
“Tell me about it. Maybe we should go to Taco Bell so I can get a bean burrito or something. I want to be able to fight back.”
“Oh that’s gross,” Adrian said.
Lunch was a fun and an enjoyable reprieve from my day. Back at work, I marched myself over to Star Wars’ c
ubicle. When I showed up, there he was on the phone talking to some poor customer. He was going on and on about the local Jedi Order that he belonged to and that he looked at Luke Skywalker as a personal hero. I was positive that the customer hadn’t asked anything about Star Wars.
I had learned through experience that most people don’t like talking to auditors; they always think of the IRS. In fact, a great majority of the time our customers disliked talking to us just about as much as we disliked talking to them. Not Star Wars. He made it a point to call every customer and if he didn’t reach them in person, he left them a long message ending with the spelling of his name—twice. They weren’t short calls either. He kept these poor bastards on the phone for eight or nine minutes before they would inevitably hang up on him, which just made him call back.
I stood in the cube looking down at Star Wars. He looked so odd sitting there. He was tall and I mean real tall— like 6’7”—with large aviator glasses. I took in my surroundings. On the coat hook was a fanny pack along with a thin greenish flight jacket covered in patches displaying different achievements in the Jedi Order. The Order had always confused me. He wasn’t a Jedi, not that anyone was, but rather a storm trooper, which was the enemy of the Jedi right? His cube was also littered with little models, some of the Millennium Falcon, TIE fighters, and of course the Death Star. My eye caught a piece of paper pinned to the wall of the cube. There were drawings of slug-looking things along the top of it and a strange language that I didn’t recognize. Of course, my inability to not recognize a language didn’t mean much.
Star Wars hung up the phone and noticed me looking at the paper “What is it?” I asked.
“Ah, funny you should ask. It’s a drinking song written in Huttese.
“In what?”
“Huttese, the language the Hutts speak of course.”
He turned back to his computer to enter his notes from his phone call, continuing to talk about the song the whole time. It was a good thing he turned around too; I was quite literally biting my lip.
“Would you like me to sing it?”
No, say no, I told myself, but I just couldn’t. “Yes, I would love that.” My voice cracked a bit.
He began to sing still looking at his computer screen. He was moving his arms like he was marching and he was getting louder and louder. I turned to look to Adrian sitting at her desk. She looked like a deer in headlights. She mouthed ‘WTF’ to me. Fat hot tears rolled down my face and I felt my abdomen contract with suppressed laughter. I bit down harder on my lip. I tried desperately not to laugh out loud. A salty metallic taste touched my tongue as my teeth cut into my bottom lip. I took long deep breaths, but the song was long and he was really getting into it. Adrian was doubled over at her desk. Star Wars hit a long high note lifting his hands above his head and Adrian’s knee jerked up hitting the underside of her desk hard.
I clapped my hand to my mouth, my body shuttered, and Adrian, still trying not to laugh, rubbed her knee with her right hand and flipped me off with her left.
I knew my lip would throb for the rest of the day but the pain was well worth it. Thankfully, Star Wars noticed only those things that had to do with him, like his lunch and his Jedi Order. I could have been bleeding to death and unless he would get some great glory from saving me, he wouldn’t even see the color red. I learned very little from Star Wars. Like when he completed an audit, it was as if he was writing a book. He covered the paperwork in notes that made no sense whatsoever and there were a ton of them. I remembered Ankle complaining about his work one time and now I understood why. He noted every action he took including walking to the printer. It was more of a journal than an audit.
By the end of the day I was more then happy to go home. I liked Fiasco, Junior, and even Chester, but sitting and listening to people talk about auditing insurance was tiresome at best. As I walked outside I was almost ran over by Moleth, one of our help staff. I had to jump out of the way to avoid the violently purple Honda. As she passed by me, time seemed to slow down and everything came in to sharp relief. My mind was still working at normal speed; it was the world that slowed down, not me. That being said, it felt like I had a few seconds to take in all of the dents, dings, and scratches on Moleth’s car. I wondered how many people hadn’t been so lucky. Was I destined to be one of those dents? Time resumed its previous pace and I felt myself toppling over. I hit the pavement hard scratching the palms of my hands on the asphalt. I got up cursing and looked around for any more assailants. Moleth was gone and it was highly unlikely she had noticed me. I rushed to my car and gratefully slipped into the protective steel cage and headed home.
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