The Foreward to the book im trying to write.
4:52 PM.
Just downed the last few drinks of my fifth cup of Starbucks dark roast coffee of the day. I know if I can just get through the next eight minutes without an agonizing buzz at my Blackberry or a painfully familiar late afternoon "bing!" from the Outlook client (which is neatly tucked down into the tray of my computer) I can get out of here on time for once in the last three months. Maybe I could call some old friends I haven't seen in way too long and meet up for a game of pool and a few drinks.
Who am I kidding? I'd rather just sleep for longer than four hours tonight. If I get out of here by 5:00 today, I'll be in bed and probably already asleep by 5:20.
4:56 PM.
Finally finished the last few lines of this proposal spreadsheet with the bare minimums of typical Excell error bullshit, and saved my final draft after giving it a last good once-over to make sure all my formulas came out right. You would be amazed at how much shit a multimillionaire CEO can kick up over $2 a month that didn't carry over properly on my quote sheet because I miss typed a formula or put it in the wrong column. But alas, all adds up nicely, and it matches the price sheet sent directly from corporate. My heart skips a beat as the monitor flickers during my save, luckily just the power cord being shaky as normal, and the save completes just fine.
5:01 PM.
This is one of the many parts of my job that I'm not proud of... But honestly, if I had to rank it on a level of importance for survival around here, it's pretty damn close to the top. I slip on my jacket and make a mad dash to the door, my head straight down as if it'll keep anyone from noticing me on my way out. It's exactly eighteen steps from my office to the elevator, and a twelve floor elevator ride to the lobby, at which point I take the back door out and walk to a parking lot twice as far as employee parking, just so that I have less of a chance of being spotted making my clean getaway. I can feel Jan, the secretary at the desk directly across from my office, staring at me as I make my way out. I know she thinks I'm crazy, and at this point, making eye contact with no one and briskly pacing my way across the path to the elevator, I'd have a hell of a time arguing that point.
5:03 PM.
In the elevator. Five floors left.
Oh shit.
Why is the elevator stopping? The doors slide open to reveal none other than one of the many sales coordinators here who loves to call himself my boss out loud as often as possible. This particular coordinator is an especially strong breed of asshole with a little bit of an over compensation problem. Big car. Big house. Big belt buckle. Wait, what the hell? Who wears a belt buckle like that around here? What are we in texas? I snap out of my slightly awkward gaze at his belt buckle, which I'm fairly confident features some sort of an epic clash between a cowboy and a bull, and it finally dawns on me that he's been speaking to me, or at me anyway.
"Did you get that, junior?"
Die please.
"I'm sorry, uhm... I didn't catch-"
"See that's your problem, kid. You just don't listen. When your boss is talking to you, you take into account the fact that his time is more valuable than yours, and don't make him repeat himself."
He has such a demeaning manner of speech.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weston. I'm just a little distracted."
I don't even buy my own apology as I hear it fly out of my mouth without any real conviction.
"Always saying sorry for something."
Before I can even respond he cuts me off.
"Adams is off this week, and he has a big enrollment on his desk that kicks off tomorrow. It isn't going to take care of itself. I trust that you can take care of that for me. Am I right?"
He knows damn well that this on top of the other two accounts I'm in charge of in their current stages makes a ridiculous workload and means that I won't get out of here for at least another two hours if I hope to be even a somewhat familiar with the account by tomorrow.
"Well, I mean, I have the Sunscape account going into enrollment early next week, I really need to prepare for that this week. Not to mention that I just finished up the last spreadsheet for E.T.C. and I have a proposal with them on friday, no telling where that could lead for the next week."
"Guess you have some long hours ahead of you then, kid. You know my extension in case you screw this up too bad."
We are already down to the lobby now and he exits the elevator without even the slightest hint of a respectful adieu.
I look at my watch.
5:05 PM.
The doors close firmly. I stare at the keypad for what seems like an eternity. I should just hit the open door button, head to my car and drive away. I should never come back. That would show him I'm not someone who's just going to take his bullshit day in and day out.
About the time my fantasy reaches its eventful climax of me throwing a hot latté right on Ben Weston's face and $2,000 suit, laughing like a giddy little schoolgirl, I look up to see a brightly glowing "12" above the door of the elevator. And there I am back on my floor, as quickly back in as I was out, my head now hanging for a completely different reason.
Jan tried to make some sort of a comment as I walked back into my office, but I really didn't care enough to reply or even listen. Not today. I just ignored her and sat back in my chair with the file I had picked up from Danny Adams' office on my way back in. It's as thick a file as any I've seen, he's been working on it for weeks and I have one evening to get familiar enough with the account to conduct an enrollment, along with proposals, and answer any questions along the way.
I spend the rest of the evening trying to avoid looking at any time keeping devices, until finally I feel my knowledge of the account will suffice for the meetings to take place tomorrow. I head out to the hall to ask Jan to print out some directions and information on where the account is located, as is normal protocol for all new accounts.
"Ahh, so you were lucky enough to pull Danny's 'out of towner' huh?"
She smiles at me as if she gets some sort of pleasure out of her job, breaking the hearts and minds of humble sales agents on a daily basis. I shake my head, I can almost feel tears of frustration welling up in my eyes, but I hold back.
"On top of everything... I should've known it wasn't local. Where is it?"
"Somewhere up north I guess, hold on."
Jan clicks away on her keyboard looking up the account file. I'm not quite sure what is involved, but I'm sure I could figure it out faster than her. She is quite possibly the most useless person in the building, aside from the Janitor who I'm always catching asleep. Though admittedly she has certain 'assets' that make it fun to watch her work at times, I won't go into any further detail at the moment.
"Yeah it's quite a ways up north. A little town called Lassenview."
You've gotta be kidding me.
I know that my thoughts and utter disgust are written on my face, but I'm just too annoyed to care right now. I've passed my breaking point.
"You know the place?"
I take the papers from her hand and start to turn around, checking over them in disbelief. I turn my head half way back toward her.
"Yeah. I know the place."
I start to walk away, checking over the information one last time. It must be a mistake. I stop, and without turning around I grant her one last piece of information.
"I grew up there."
I drop the mass of files on my desk and grab my coat once again. As I stroll back out toward the elevator, I check my Blackberry for missed calls. I notice the time at the corner of the screen.
7:56 PM.
Lassenview... Shit.