I wrote this short story about a month ago for the salesperson I work with. He had been on holiday and in his absence I was ordered to clean up his cubicle. It did look like a bomb had gone off in there.
So, I did. Clean it up, that is, not set off a bomb. It took three boxes and a vat of general purpose spray to get the desk and filing cabinet to an acceptable standard.
I knew he would be pissed. I knew I would get the brunt of it. So, to ease the tension I wrote him a story. The fact that I'm still alive and still gainfully employed today goes to show how a little creativity can get you out of some tough spots. Names have been changed to save my own hide.
An Uzi-doozy of a day
She dressed in battle fatigues that Wednesday morning, lacing up her combat boots, affixing her helmet and crossing her fingers for no casualties that day. It was D-Day. Black Wednesday. And, it was expected the cloud above her work station would disperse only with the weekend’s approach. Battle ready, she stepped from her porch toward her car, wishing it a tank to take out the enemy.
It was the commander’s return that had her poised for attack, and there was bound to be backlash for her week’s activity – a general’s order to clean up his work station in his absence.
“I think I just threw up in my mouth."
She could hear him from the parking lot. He’d seen the desk.
“I think I just threw up in my mouth,” she said to her co-worker as she entered the office.
“Get ready for it. He’s on a rampage and you’re top on the list. But remember, you couldn’t disobey an order. You had to do it.”
“Yeah, he should be pleased that I kept it organized,” she said, pointing to the tabbed file folders. “If General Golden had his way everything would be swept off into the trash.”
But she knew he would not even see past the sparkling, barren desk, drinking glass washed and catalogues neat and tidy.
“It’s too late to phone in sick, isn’t it,” she asked.
“Given his mood today, you will be able to call in dead tomorrow,” her co-worker answered with a grin.