Still lacking a title

 

            I don’t know why these kinds of random thoughts always hit me when I’m walking to work.  All I really want to do is clear my head with ten minutes of nothing.  If I can clear my head in the morning it’s much easier to work through the day.  Now I’m going to think about Rachel and wonder where she is every other minute.  Goddamn.

            I work for the local newspaper, which isn’t exactly big time.  My job is in the advertisement department.  I started in the classified section, spending most of my day figuring out how cheap people are.  I realize that when you pay by the word you try to be brief.  I get that.  But if you are so cheap that your ad makes absolutely no sense, you aren’t going to get a good response.

            I remember talking to an elderly woman who wanted to sell her car.  She told me that she wanted an ad that said “Nice Car Sale,” and didn’t want to leave her number.  She decided that the paper, (me in particular) should screen the calls for her and only forward serious inquiries.  I don’t think she ever did believe me when I said it wasn’t part of the service.  I told her that I really just didn’t think she’d get much of a response without giving more information and perhaps she should rethink giving her phone number.

            Old women don’t listen to anybody; I learned that the hard way.  So I ran her ad and she got no response.  Then she called to yell at me and report me to my supervisor.  I got written up for being, what was it?  Oh yeah, “rude, disruptive, and just generally unhelpful.”  I remember something about being a lying twit too, but the exact words escape me.  I really don’t know why I still work there.

            At least I don’t do that kind of stuff anymore, as I moved to the corporate ad section.  I’ve been doing this for thirteen years, so now I’m the asshole supervisor who rights up younger employees who do nothing wrong just for the hell of it.  I don’t hate my job, but that’s as far as I go.  The hell am I thinking about this crap for anyway?

 

            “Morning Ryan.”

            “Jill.”

            “Ryan.”

            “Bob.”

            “Hey boss, nice and cold out there.” Cindy said.  Cindy is a big fan of stating the obvious and unnecessary.  I think she’s scared of awkward silence, so she goes the other way and makes awkward conversation.

            “Yeah Cindy, it’s a bit wet out.”  I’m the boss so I have to play the employees’ games.

            “Yeah, and you with your walking.  Just crazy.”

            “Just saving some money.  It’s only ten minutes.”  This is true and untrue.  Yes I’m saving money, but my car also breaks down all the time.  I could get a new one, but the car has sentimental value.  It doesn’t make any sense, but I’d rather stick with my current unreliable car, which I try to find ways out of having to use.  Rather than buy a newer reliable car that I’d be more apt to actually drive.  Other people don’t mind me asking for rides all the time.  At least not enough to say no.

            “Okay boss, whatever you say.”

            Yeah Cindy, that’s right.  Whatever I say.  This is why I keep my office door closed all day, because Cindy would add all sorts of idiocy to my day.  I really wish she'd be either more or less productive.  If she were any better at her job I could promote her somewhere else, away from me.  If she were any worse I could fire her, and again, she’d be away from me.  As is she’s a solid if not spectacular person working the phones.

           

            That’s not completely true, as I actually really like Cindy.  If only she’d shut up every once in awhile, I’m pretty sure we’d have a great working relationship.  I’m just upset about Renee.  Which is the only reason I’m thinking about Rachel.  No, I suppose that doesn’t make any sense.

            Renee is my current girlfriend, or semi-current, or something.  I actually don’t know what we are at this point, although I had a pretty good idea yesterday.  Women are confusing.

           

            Bob knocks on my door; I can see him through the glass.  That’s the big disadvantage to office doors; I can’t pretend that I’m not here.  And it’s not like anybody knocks and waits anymore; they just knock and come in.

            “Hey Bob, what’s up?”

            “I got the sales numbers for last quarter, we should probably go over them.”

            Yeah Bob, can’t you see I’m in some special kind of emotional quandary here?  Last thing I want to look at is goddamn sales numbers.

            “Alright, you got a minute?”

            Bob sits down and hands me ten pages of information I don’t need.  I look at the last page and see that we didn’t reach our goals, again. 

            “Just what I need, more bad news.”

            “Is there other bad news?” Bob asks while fidgeting in his chair.  He’s always worried about losing his job for some reason.   You’d think after twenty years of this shit he’d be comfortable by now.

            “You’re fine Bob, not work related.”

            “I see… you want to talk about it?”

            Wow Bob, that almost makes me feel like you care.

            “We’re not drinking, I think I’ll handle my personal stuff personally.”

            “Okay, but if you need to talk, y’know, you can talk to me.”  Bob squirmed in his chair waiting for me to confirm that I wouldn’t take him up on his offer.  I’m not, but it’s fun to watch how nervous he can get.  It’s a self-inflicted anxiety; the guy is a walking heart attack.  I give him six months to live, though I said that six months ago.

            “Tell you what Bob, if I need to talk I’ll call Jill.”

            That seems to settle him down a bit.  No more squirming, too bad for me.

            “So what do you want me to do about these numbers?  It ain’t good news, that’s three quarters in a row.  We do this next quarter and we’ll all get the axe.”

            “Yeah, a full year of shitty numbers is not a good thing.  Why don’t you actually put all of this stuff into a format I can use.  We’ll talk about it in Friday’s meeting, and document how we’re going to fix it.  Then I’ll take that to Cynthia so she knows we’re doing something.”

            Bob smiles knowing he has a task.  I swear to God he’s like a dog chasing sticks in the park, as long as he has something to do he’ll wag his tail.

            “Okay Ryan, what kind of format do you want it in?”

            Fuck do I care.  “You’re good at this stuff, do whatever you want.  Have it for me by Friday morning, and we’ll go over it before the staff meeting.  Sound good?”

            “I’ll have it by Thursday.”

            “Great,” and as he gets up to leave, “And Bob?” he turns to me expectantly.  “Make sure it’s good, this one is going to the top.”

            I think his mouth dropped straight to the floor.  I love messing with Bob.

 

            The problem is none of this matters to me.  All I’m thinking about is Rachel and wondering what the hell happened to her.  Did she move to Texas?  And the only reason I’m thinking about Rachel is because I don’t want to think about Renee, because once again the world has shown me how little sense life makes.