Basket-Case

ONE

                It was a new job and Andrew had resigned himself to hating it. He had already started his day with a good dose of hate and found no reason to stop there. The alarm hacked in his ear at 6:15 a.m., he hated that sound.  The water was freezing for five minutes of his seven minute shower. His roommates had finished off his juice, for which he cussed them out for several tense minutes and nearly missed his train. All in all it was a shitty day to start a shitty job.

                He walked a few Boston blocks and quite suddenly he was in the lobby of an immense glass and steel skyscraper.  Though, he didn’t actually remember walking in.  He remembered passing the worst pizza place he had ever eaten at, and then, just like that, the lobby. Weird.

                He went to the front desk and got his ID. The receptionist was a bitch; he hated her without reservation in a matter of minutes. He hated her coffee stained breath and her nicotine stained fingers. He even hated her name, Elise. Of course a bitch would be named Elise, bitch. As he entered the elevator that smelled like omelet farts he thought his day couldn’t suck any harder. As he entered his office suite and noticed he was the only male, he figured it could. Oh yeah it could.

                “…I’m just gonna set you down here, dear. I’ll put on the video until Jeannette gets back. She should only be a minute, ok?”

                She smelled like mothballs and pee, Andrew thought to himself. The smell of her did little to mitigate the quality of this sucktastic day. It was a sexual harassment video, badly acted and with a ****-ton of suck served up right along with it. Andrew hated it from the moment the bad eighties title “Too Hot for the Workplace” flashed in puce on the screen. After taking as much of it as he could, say five minutes or so, his eyes and mind began to wander. He stared out through blinds on the door. Hoping that an office suite full of women might proffer up one or two views of interest. Yet alas, he was wrong.  Though he did see a sad woman push a blue antique stroller by the door. The baby was obscured from his view but he did see its little hand clutching the side of stroller. It was small and pink and the back of it was covered in short curly hairs. Short curly hairs? Babies don’t have…

                “What should you do if you feel harassed in the workplace?” Asked the well quaffed host of the video.

                “Be thankful…” he mumbled in case he was overheard.

                He wasn’t sure why he was being so cautious of his disdain, but reconciled himself to the fact that there may be electronic surveillance. Besides, he couldn’t afford to lose this job. He hated being broke.  But that baby was still on his mind. Even when Jeanette led him to his cubicle and described his job to him he was still thinking about the baby. Was it a baby? Yeah, probably, but…

                “And Andrew, if you could, do you think you can fill out your I-9 by the end of day? Just leave it with Cheryl; she was the one who got you started today, ok?”

                “Uh, yeah, sure,” he was about to ask about the baby when he saw it again, being pushed by another woman. They must take turns pushing that little beast around, he joked to himself. He craned his neck a little when Jeanette blocked his view of the woman and the stroller. She saw the object of his interest and gave him a face that could only be categorized as gross. He hated her too, maybe more than most. For most of the day he entered data, meaningless and faceless data, or rather he pretended to as he surfed the net. The workload was easy, but finishing it too early might mean more work. Better to pace himself he thought.

                “Knock, Knock!” said a rotund woman giddily.

                Why not just knock for real, Andrew asked himself.

                “Hey, new guy right?” Her eyes deep-set eyes were an eerie grey.

                Try only guy.

                “Yup. That be me, alright.” Andrew attempted a smile.

                “Well, in that case you be needed in the boss’s office.” She giggled like a little girl and stomped off.

                Great, Andrew thought, they must monitor the computers. I’d say I’m wicked fired.

                He trooped to the office at the end of the long line of cubicles. The blinds were closed and it was quiet. I hate getting fired, he thought as he turned the knob and when it. And there behind the large oak desk was the carriage. The boss had his/her chair turned towards it, the high-back of the leather chair hiding her/him from view. 

                “So, you wanted to see me?”

                “How ya likin’ it so far?” Asked a man’s voice, deep, old and Bostonian.

                Andrew felt a little relieved, “You know, just getting used to it.”

                “Good on ya, son. Hey, why doncha’ step over here so’s I can get a good look at ya?”

                Seeing no reason not to, Andrew complied. After all, he’d finally get a look at what he now thought to be the boss’ hairy kid. As he rounded the corner of the large oak desk he realized the executive’s chair was empty.  And then the voice came from the carriage, no it had always came from the stroller.