Friday, May 18, 2012

Fiction Friday: She works hard for the money (miss you Donna Summer)

Every fucking day it's the same. My boss telling me I'm not up to speed. The agonizing commute to reach the office to be told such enlightening information. The lack of support of my co-workers, although I understand this part, at least. We're all doing everything we can to just keep these shit jobs. To stay out of Jordan's way.

I wish for just one day he would know what it is to work for a living. To need the money. But he doesn't, and for some reason his boarding schools and ivy league collage education and graduate programs never gave him the smack down he so desperately deserves. Or hell, who knows, maybe they did. Maybe he got the shit beat out of him, regularly, and the result is his domineering dick-head personality. Or maybe daddy bought his way in to each, and he could never make the grade.

Regardless, we should really do something about it, something about him. Becky from human resources would be all for it, as the shit he stirs up consumes most of her working hours, and because she's a little bit crazy to boot.

But for the life of me I can't figure out who else might be on board. Jeremy? Maybe. He must be sick of being called a faggot. It would be completely insulting if he was, in fact, a gay man, but of course he's not, so it annoys him all the more. He can't take some high-road stand about being part of a discriminated against minority group, because he's not. He's a white straight male, for god's sake, but, on the other hand he can't go full off about the word itself without being a bigoted asshole. And creative has more than a few gays who would not let him live it down if he did. (And who, truth be told, wish Jeremy was, in fact, a faggot.)

God knows he's got the stunning good looks of a gay man. But, alas, he's a total tits and ass man. And not the kind that you find on your typical working gal. He likes them big and bigger. You know, the kind-of girl who can't stop at just one boob job. But still, he might be in.

If I could get Daphne to approach him with it, maybe he'd take the time to listen. I love Daphne, don't get me wrong. She's one of the only people here who doesn't seem to be walking on egg shells, who greets everyone with a big smile and often some superficial compliment to go with it. Of course that's her job. But you've got to give it to her, she excels at it. And she definitely has the tits to pull off a sit-down with Jeremy. The problem, of course, is that I don't think Jordan bothers her in the least. She gushes over him every time he passes her desk, and it seems sincere, at least to me, but again, what the hell do I know.

Maybe I should invite her to lunch. She's suggested we grab a drink after work enough times for me to know that she would accept my lunch offer. The worst that could happen is I'd have to listen to stories about her snot-nosed nieces. Best case? She's had it up to her giant nipples with sticking pins in her Jordan voodoo doll to no result, and wants to step up her game.


Me, You, or Ellie said...

Wowza, someone needs a happy pill! Riveting and troubling and slightly cringeworthy - you're a great writer for sure.



Me, You, or Ellie said...

Oh dear. I fear for everybody. *Everybody*.

Please? Keep us posted? But please make everybody okay?


Anonymous said...

I thought this was a pretty good sketch...riveting and kinda freaky like J said. nicely done.