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Text copyright © 2010 by Nicholas Taylor

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

  a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic,

  mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior written permission

  of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are a product of the authors imagination. Any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Chapter 1- First Day on the Job

  I sat waiting in my car hoping that Ankle would get a move on. I didn’t want to be late to my first day on the job. Soon enough, I heard the low rumble of his Chevy Camaro, lovingly nicknamed The Maro, pulling into the parking lot. There was a light rain this morning, and I remembered watching the poor weatherman the night before try to predict the weather in Denver. He had looked almost confident as he promised partly cloudy skies, but by the end of the broadcast, he had promised sun. When I got up to go to the bathroom at two in the morning, I checked my phone and the weather said snow.

  There was a yellow blur in my rearview mirror as Ankle parked his car. I got out of my car, feeling mist on my face and heavy air fill my lungs.

  We were to enter the building of Riders Insurance on the north side. The lot here was just one lane with parking spots up either side. There was a complex of condos just to the other side of it. A woman glowered out her window at Ankle’s overly loud car. You needed a key card to enter the building, so that’s why I was going to be late for my first day. I didn’t have a card yet, and Ankle said he was going to be on time.

  The Maro went silent and a six foot seven man stepped out of the car. Well, he didn’t look like a man; he still looked like he was seventeen despite being twenty four. Ankle had short, spiky blond hair and blue eyes. I suddenly felt out of place looking at him. I opted for a tie today, but all Ankle had on was a pair of cargos and a button up shirt that looked like it had been balled up in the back seat about ten minutes ago.

  He walked toward me with a limp.

  “Sprain your ankle again?” I asked without concern. This was how he got his nickname Ankle. He would go and play basketball twice a week and to his credit, he was good for a white kid from suburbia. But he was even better at injuring himself during games.

  “No, I think I just rolled it. Sorry I’m late. I fell asleep in the shower. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Larry it’s not your fault. What did you do last night?”

  “Thanks, I didn’t do too much.”

  “Oh yeah, just looked at porn on the internet?”

  “You know it; did you download anything good last night yourself?”

  “I saw a video of you and your ex girlfriend on a horse porn site.”

  “Do you look at a lot of animal porn?” I asked inquisitively.

  Ankle was quite for a second. “Only when I’m with your mom.”

  I knew I had won. As soon as Ankle was at a loss for something to say, he turned to the middle school your mom jokes.

  We walked up to the three-story red brick building and Ankle hit his butt against a flat gray keypad. To my amazement, it beeped and the door opened.

  “What the hell?” I asked, truly stunned.

  Sarcasm oozed from Ankle’s answer. “Well you see, we need key cards to get in this building and so you have to—”

  “I know that retard—that’s why I’ve been in the parking lot for twenty minutes. Do you have yours shoved up your butt?”

  “Oh no, I keep it in my wallet, but its arse high for me.”

  I shook my head. There would be time to make fun of that later. We entered the building which felt sweltering compared to the chilly morning outside. There was a short cream-colored hall with a dark brown door on either side. Ankle walked to the one on the right and once again hit his magnetic butt against the key pad. It beeped and not wanting to be stuck out in the hall, I followed closely behind as he walked in.

  To my left was a large area of gray blue cubicles and opposite that to my right was an office and a conference room. On the wall facing the door was an off-white refrigerator that didn’t look like it belonged in a Fortune 500 company. The office that was next to me had one of those sliver windows next to the door, like the ones in high school that made to feel like you weren’t able to handle a full window until you were all grown up. On the window, a little silver placard read ‘Larry P’.

  We entered the office to see a short plump man slumped behind a fake Cherry Wood desk. His hair, or what was left of it, was wispy white and matched a long mustache sprouting beneath his nose. He had on large glasses and a short-sleeved dress shirt that screamed ‘I’m in insurance.’ I almost expected to see a pocket protector. My eyes flicked to the wall and its assorted customer service awards and accreditations that Larry received over the years of auditing insurance.

  “Sorry we’re late Larry, I had a slow start.”

  Larry looked pointedly at the clock on the wall and then back at Ankle. “In truth, this is the earliest I’ve seen you in a month. Maybe you and Mr. Morison here should car pool.”

  He gestured to me and Ankle chuckled. I don’t think that he realized that Larry wasn’t kidding. Larry dismissed Ankle and asked me to sit down in one of the waiting room like chairs that lined his office. He tapped a couple of things out on the computer and turned back to me.

  “Ok, well your team lead will be here momentarily and she will show you around and get you all setup. You have a meeting with HR at one to sign paper work and that’s about it. Sorry, I would do this myself, but were having some issues with our fax machines that need attending.”

  “Ok thank you. If you want, I can look at them while were waiting. I’m good at fixing fax machines.”

  A painful smile crossed Larry’s face. “Sorry, let me add some detail to that. We’ve been losing faxes and we don’t know why. They’re printing; we know that much, but after that—well, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that…” I trailed off.

  “That’s ok,” he said. I swore I heard him mutter something about Bourbon in his desk.

  Before long, a woman entered the office. She was in black slacks with a long sleeved deep blue shirt. Black hair framed what looked like an Italian face. Her dark eyes looked warm and inviting and she wore a small smile that I suspected was always there. There was a soft waft of some expensive perfume coming from her. It was a sharp contrast to the musty sent of Larry’s office. She glanced once at Larry who didn’t seem to know I was there anymore.

  “Hi, I’m Christen. I’ll be your new team lead,” she said enthusiastically. As she spoke, she flashed me a bright smile showing straight, white teeth. She held out her hand to shake mine. Her hand was soft and warm. “Thanks, it’s nice to meet you.”

  It was nice to meet her. Larry seemed a bit off to me and Christen was bouncy and happy. She didn’t belong at an insurance company. She escorted me to my cube, which was against a window to an indoor garden. I heard the sound of someone chattering on the phone in the cube to my left.

  I sat down at the L-shaped desk. Above me were stony gray cabinets that matched the desktop. There were two sets of file cabinets as well. The one closest to the wall and indoor jungle was two drawers tall and standard looking. The one on the other side of the desk was longer, a double wide so to speak. The air smelled dusty and stagnant and I figured the cubes made air circulation difficult. I looked at the blank, flat screen monitor in front of me. Christen sat down on the desk and held out of sticky note for me.

  “These are all of your passwords and the number for the helpdesk.”

  “Ok, thanks. Will I need the helpdesk’s number today?”

&n
bsp; “Most likely. Managers aren’t allowed to call on password problems and IT usually doesn’t set people up right. In truth, you may not even be able to login for a week or so.”

  “Ok,” I said, wondering what on earth I was going to do with the day. She smiled at me in an ‘I’m so sorry for you’ sort of way.

  “Look, I’m in the cube at the end of the row. Let me know when you get all logged in, or if you can’t get logged in, and then I will take you on a tour of the office and later you can go meet HR.”

  She looked like she wanted to say more but she got up and walked away. I flicked on the computer and heard its fan whirl as the computer came to life. Well, I thought it was coming to life. I saw script after script flash across the screen as it tried to bring up Windows. For a moment I thought I was going to need to call IT about the computer not working.

  Ankle’s voice startled me. “Hey bro.”

  I turned. “Does this thing always take this long?”

  “Yeah, every morning. Just wait until it needs updates. So, I assume you met Manager?”

  “Who is Manager?”

  “Oh sorry—Christen. That’s her nickname. That or manager lady; either works.”

  I chuckled and the computer beeped. I turned back to the screen. It was asking for my username and password. I typed in ‘bmorrison5’ and then tabbed to the password. I entered the long stream of numbers and letters indicated on the sticky note. The computer chirped telling me my password was wrong. I tried again and again. It continued to tell me my password was wrong. Ankle sighed.

  “Sorry, you’re going to have to call the helpdesk. That sucks man.”

  He walked away after giving me a look. I picked up the phone that was on my desk and dialed the helpdesk’s number. There were four rings and then an automated message. Eight selections later, a man with a thick accent answered the line.

  “Tank you fo calling the Riders Insurance helpdesk, my name is Steve, is d’is a new or existing ticket?”

  “New.”

  “What office are you calling from?”

  “Denver.”

  “Thank you, one moment. Ok and what is your phone number?”

  I gave him my number, also from the sticky note. Manager was planning on me having to call the helpdesk. Then he asked for my name and my department; then he asked for my date of birth and email address. Finally, he was done.

  “Ok, Mr. Morison, what is the problem?”

  “I’m trying to log in to my computer and it’s saying my password or username is wrong.”

  There was a huff on the other end of the phone. “Sir you have contacted the wrong line. Please call back and pay attention to your selections next time. Tank you and have a wonderful day.”

  Then there was silence. I sat dumfounded for a moment and then dialed again, this time paying closer attention.

  “Tank you fo calling the Riders Insurance helpdesk, this is Bill. Is this a new or existing ticket?”

  “New, oh wait it may be existing.”

  The voice was the exact same as before. “Steve?” I asked.

  “No sir, I told you my name is Bill.”

  I knew it was the same guy. He was just using the name of the person he had talked to before. I gritted my teeth and gave Bill or Steve or whatever his name was all of my information again. When I hung up an hour later, my hand was trembling with nerves. I got up to go tell Manager I was done. When I got to her desk, she was on the phone. She handed me a thick green binder with a sticky that said ‘read this’. I went back to my desk and read about Riders Insurance the company until lunch, when finally Ankle came and rescued me.

  We went to Wendy’s. Since Riders only gave us a half an hour, there wasn’t much time for talking. When I came back to my desk, manager lady was there writing a note on another yellow sticky.

  “Hey manager, what’s up?”

  She glared at Ankle. “Nothing. HR said they can see you as soon as you’re back from lunch.”

  “Oh, ok.”

  She lead the way though the maze-like building until we arrived at a small office with the lights out. There was a computer on a desk in the corner that had every ergonomic attachment conceived by man. The glare guard, the ergonomic keyboard, a little stand for the monitor—everything. It was like an infomercial gone horribly wrong. There was a man sitting in the room, but he was hard to make out in the gloom. He gestured for me to sit. I walked in and Manager followed me. She seemed a little uncomfortable. We sat down and waited for the man to talk.

  “So Bill is it? How is your first day going?”

  “It’s goo—.”

  I was cut off. “That’s great to hear. I’m glad you’re settled in. Is your desk comfortable?”

  “Ye—”

  “Good!” He cut me off again. “Let me know if you need anything…” He let it hang out there like he was about to try and sell me drugs. “Maybe a glare guard?”

  “I’m ok.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I have a keyboard, a chair, and a mouse; I’m fine”

  “So you’re better than the people who need glare guards? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  I spluttered, “No I didn’t mean to say—”

  “Just messing with you. So, let me tell you a bit about Riders.”

  It was as if I wasn’t there. He waxed on eloquently about the company’s history, and how wonderful of an opportunity I was getting, and that I had found my one true home. It was hard to listen to, but finally he was done. He turned back to his computer and started typing. I opened my mouth to talk, but manager placed her hand on my arm and mouthed ‘that’s our cue’. There was no paperwork to sign, nothing to fill out—nothing. It was as if he was a hologram from some sci-fi show and I wondered if he just starting giving his little speech at random times throughout the day. She pulled me from the office, and as soon as we were out of earshot, she shuttered as if she had just seen a car wreck.

  “Yew, that guy creeps me out!” she exclaimed.

  I had to agree with her on that. He was creepy and I was looking forward to reading more about Riders in my green notebook. Anything would have been better than that.

  After more hours of monotonous reading, quitting time could not come fast enough. I rushed out of the door seeing my silver Impreza waiting to assist me in my get away. When I sat down in the car, I let out a long breath. Today was horrible. Maybe I wouldn’t come back in the morning. There was a rap at my window. It was Manager. I rolled it down.

  “Hey don’t forget this,” she said and handed me a keycard.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t worry, it gets better. You look like I did after my first day.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “See ya tomorrow,” she said walking away.

  “See ya,” I said as I turned on the car.