Tuesday, November 10, 2009

"You're so fly."

I threw down my leather jacket and purse in the office after clocking in, and begrudgingly made my way towards the back room to get ready for when the shipment arrived. The delivery guy came and went, and I was left with a crap load of boxes that would only get processed completely that day by a miracle. After an hour of ripping open the boxes, dumping their contents on the wobbly counter, and breaking down the boxes (repeat), the new guy came in, looking for some guidance on where he should start.

I gave him the exciting task of "de-bagging" everything I hadn't gotten to yet. The door to the back room slammed shut and I heard the familiar sound of the She Devils shoes, click clacking down the hall. "How's it goin back room team?" I heard the shrill loathsome voice before she appeared in the room. She stood before me, frizzy curly hair, tattoo peeking out of her sleeve, and her crazy eyes to kill that could literally set you on fire if she willed them to. "It's going pretty well", I said in the rehearsed way I always do, considering she asks five different versions of the same question every 20 minutes or so. The new guy didn't turn around when she came in, just continued taking each parcel out of the plastic mechanically. 'Smart move' I thought to myself. Staying out of the way is usually the best defense. I had begun to go over my plan in my head of how we were going to get everything finished by two o'clock, since I knew that's what she'd ask next. There was no way in hell we would of course, but I'd bull crap my way through it and tell her, "I don't see any reason why we can't finish it all today" like I always do. But I'd say whatever I had to to satisfy her enough that she would go away for five seconds. She was leaning on a hanging wrack slouching, one hooker boot extended in front of her. Seemingly innocent, but so evil. She looked at me with a vacant stare, and paused for a moment. "Ethel, your fly is down."

She eased into that one gracefully. Horrified I looked over at the new guy; he was still de-bagging. His expression was one of great amusement, but his gaze was still fixed on the work in front of him, thank god. I looked back at her; she was grimacing and silent. As I reached to pull my zipper up, the sound echoed
uncomfortably in the dead, silent room. Great. Another day in the life.

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