It’s 615 a.m…
I cleaned my work computer at the crack of dawn, transferring all my private files to my old notebook, and set off for work.
Cactus, calendar, water bottle, mug, deodorant, and I’m packed. I give the desk a once over with my eyes. Hmm, how about taking something as a souvenir? No one will even notice the lack of office supplies, I could use a few goodies. The company won’t go broke.
I put a stapler, sticky notes, several pens, highlighters, and duct tape in the box. I’m tempted to take a wireless mouse, but that would probably be going too far.
Okay, I’m walking into the lion’s den. I move toward the boss’s office, and it’s closed. Well, of course, why didn’t I think of that? I sigh heavily and touch the card to the reader on the door, but nothing happens. No beep, no green light.
The sound of a cleaning lady moving around in the restroom reaches my ears. Oh yes, she certainly has spare cards for all the rooms.
I move with the box toward the restrooms and glance at the wall clock. 6:40 a.m. Must move faster.
“Good morning!” I call out from the doorway, spotting a middle-aged woman polishing the mirror.
“Jesus!” She jumps up at the sound of my voice.
“Not quite, but you were close. I’m Maria.”
The woman makes a face. I guess the joke didn’t work for her.
“You scared me.” She goes back to wiping the mirror.
“I’m sorry. I want to leave some things in my boss’s office, but it’s closed. Can you open it for me?”
The woman shakes her head.
“I’m already late. I still have to vacuum the hallway.”
“Hmm. Could you lend me your card? I’ll give it right back. I will just put the computer and documents on his desk.”
“I can’t share cards with anyone. Rules.”
Crap.
“I understand. But this is an exceptional situation. The boss will be furious if he doesn’t have it before seven o’clock.
I would really appreciate it. This will take just a minute.
He was supposed to leave the door open, but he forgot.
” I’m a lousy liar, but it’s due to stress.
Just the thought of seeing Jan face-to-face makes my knees go wobbly.
“Please… I beg you, please… I really need to do it.”
The woman sighs, moving a paper towel over the mirror.
“What is your name?” she asks.
“Maria Gabara. I work here as a senior specialist. For now! Please. This is crazy important to me.”
“Well, I don’t know.” The woman gives me a strange look. I can sense in her voice that she probably needs some extra encouragement.
I put down the box and reach into my bag for my wallet. Its emptiness mocks me. I have 40 z?otys, an ATM card, an ID card, a few scales from a carp (which, apparently, bring shit and no luck) and a gift voucher from Tosia for a relaxing massage, which expires in two weeks. Bingo!
“Would you like to get a massage?”
“Say what?” The woman looks at me as if I’ve just proposed lesbian cunnilingus on the sink counter.
“I have an invitation to a spa from a friend, but I won’t be able to use it. You know, work, work, work… But maybe you would like to treat yourself?” I show her the voucher and smile encouragingly. “Sixty minutes, full-body massage, choice of scented oils. You’ll feel like you’re in heaven.”
God, I’m about to screw myself, the saleswoman from hell. But apparently, I’m not that hopeless because the cleaning lady throws the towel in the trash, wipes her hands on the uniform and approaches me, not taking her curious eyes off the invitation.
“And you want to give it to me in exchange for letting you use the card for five minutes?”
“Exactly. It’s really important to me.” I give her the so very… tempting voucher.
The woman holds it in her hands, practically salivating over it.
“I guarantee you will be satisfied,” I assure her, although I have never been to this place in my life. “So, do we have a deal?”
I follow her hand, which reaches into her apron pocket. My heart beats harder. Yes, oh yes.
“Give it back in five minutes.” She takes out a small pack of cards and hands me one of them.
Yes, yes and yes!!! I feel like hugging her.
“I’ll be right back.” I take the key, put the bag on my shoulder, pick up the box, turn around and run to Engler’s office.
It is 6:50 a.m.
I have been in the boss’s office three times so far, and only for a short while.
Each time I was struck by the asceticism, orderliness and coldness in it.
This is also the case now. Soundproof walls and glass, two stylish chairs, black-bound binders evenly stacked on shelves, books on finance, management and economics arranged according to the height of the spines in a bookcase, only a laptop and a monitor on the desk, an office lamp and a pen holder (and one pen in it).
I walk closer to unpack the computer from the box, and trip over some damn thing. I hit my belly on the edge of the desk and the momentum carries me forward. I land on top of the box.
Holy crap. What was that? I massage the sore spot, glance at the floor, and there lies a black, overturned attaché case. What does he keep in it? I’m tempted to look in it. But I know I can’t. I’m not like that. I’ll just put it here…
I crouch down, reaching behind the handle. Oh! There is no lock. Unfortunately, it has a padlock. Too bad. Not that I want to open it.
“What are you doing here?” I can hear a man’s voice behind me.
I get off my knees and freakin’ bump my head on the desk top.
“Fuck me…” I hiss through my teeth. I hit myself in exactly the same place as I did on the toilet yesterday. I rub my temple and stand up embarrassed because I’ve just been caught by my boss fondling his attaché case.
“I asked you, what are you doing here?” Engler walks closer.
I stand unmoving, staring at his freshly shined shoes, and I don’t dare raise my eyes.
“It is not what you think.”
“And what do you think I think?”
“That I was trying to open up your attaché case.”
“Were you?”
“No, I wasn’t!” I lift my gaze and meet the stare of his gray eyes.
And I’m surprised. And that’s because they don’t hurl lightning bolts at me, don’t accuse me of being a thief, but look at me questioningly and with curiosity.
I swallow. “I just stumbled over it, it fell over, I wanted to put it upright and then you walked in unexpectedly.”
“Unexpectedly?”
“Surprisingly. Suddenly.”
“It’s 7:00 a.m. I start work at this time every day. This is my office. The only thing unexpected about it is that I found you kneeling under my desk.”
“Not under the desk, but at the desk,” I specify because kneeling under the boss’s desk definitely does not sound good.
“Right. At my desk, with my attaché case in your hands.”
“Well, I was just—” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It looks bad. Disastrous, even. “I just wanted to leave you the computer and my notice.”
Jan’s eyebrows shoot upward.
“Your what?”
“My notice.” I retreat to the other side of the desk, take my laptop, mouse (goodbye, friend), and documents out of the box and put them on the countertop.
“I have packed my things. I will not bother you anymore. Have a nice day.” I don’t look at him, I just take the cardboard box, take a step back and at the same moment the bottom cracks and the entire contents of the box land on the floor.
“Well fuck me.” I clench my jaws until it hurts.
I crouch down, grab some duct tape and try to fix the damn box.
I’m mad at myself and at this damn box. It makes me want to cry.
As if going amok, I throw everything back inside.
I notice Jan standing right next to me out of the corner of my eye.
A hundred potential remarks come to mind that, at any moment, his mouth will spit out that I’m clumsy, that I stole office supplies, that I trespassed illegally in his office, that I made a fool of him when Arti called him, that I sent him my bare boobs via text message.
He leans over me. He is so close that I can smell him. I’m sure that in that financial brain of his, he is already calculating how much he’s going to deduct from my salary for the company gadgets I swiped. And then he speaks in a hushed voice just above my ear:
“Just say the word, and I’ll suck them until you come.”
“What!” I raise my head so violently that I hit Engler with the back of my head on the nose.
“Jesus.” Jan steps back. He flares his nostrils.
“What did you say?” I stare at him in disbelief. My heart is thudding in my chest so hard that it echoes the throbbing in my temples.
Engler looks at me confused.
“Jesus?”
“No, before that.”
He frowns.
“Just say the word and I will help you with the box?”
“With the box?”
“With the box. Do you need help with it?”
I exhaled loudly. I think I have officially lost it. Or I have a concussion. After all, I slammed my head three times in the past twenty-four hours—against the toilet, against the desk, and against my boss, who is currently staring at me, anticipating an answer to a question.
Maria, focus! Curb your emotions, your imagination and start thinking clearly.
“No, I will take my things myself. A cab is already waiting for me downstairs,” I lie. Obviously, I feel bad about spending money on a taxi, but this Croesus with a fancy BMW will probably think nothing of it.
I hastily put the poor cactus in the pot (ouch, it pricks!!!), scrape the leftover soil from the carpet on my hand, pour it into the box….
“Where do you plan to take it?” asks Jan, staring at the battered plant.
To the cactus vet.
“And what specifically are you asking about?”
“Where are you going by cab with this box?”
Is he for real? He’s got some nerve.
“To St. Dominic’s Fair.” I throw him a fulminating glance, shake my hands free and get up.
“I could use a few pennies right now. Perhaps you feel like buying something before I leave? I’d be happy to give you a piece of advice.
” I can shove a cactus up your ass, tape your mouth shut or just stick a pen in your eye.
“Too early, it’s not July yet.”
“What?”