This continues last week's entry. I just couldn't help myself. Enjoy and keep commenting.
Another morning found me imitating a gymnast in order to get into my chair at work. So many packages remained from the previous day that they were piled tight against my small section of the mailroom. In inched the chair out just far enough for me to throw one leg the seat. Then I squeezed the chair tight between my thighs as I slowly scooted forward until I could maneuver my lower half under the desk. Even then, I almost needed to hold my breath to keep from pushing my chair back into the boxes every time I filled my lungs with air.
I drummed my fingers on the metal surface of the desk, reflecting on my current situation. Despite the new construction of the building, my curtain desk had migrated from our old office. The company ran out of money before they furnished this windowless room. Thus I balanced my work precariously on an antique, which I felt certain had barely missed being melted down to make bullets in the first world war. I reached for a heavy pile of loose pages as the door banged open.
I didn’t turn around. I could tell by the soft murmur of disgruntled whispering that the queen of the mailroom had arrived. I knew from experience, that she didn’t enjoy casual conversation. If someone didn’t have something concise and important to say, they shouldn’t waste her time. She ignored or offered harsh criticism to anyone who tried to do so. She barked orders at people on the other end of the line, expecting them to obey immediately without any further explanation from her. When people came to claim their packages, they peered around the door timidly to before entering. She had trained them so well that they usually addressed their questions to me. She never seemed to mind.
This morning, her first words to me solidified my ability to answer those questions. “All of these boxes are for Joe in accounting. Make sure he gets them all out of here at once… And soon”
“Yes, Crystal.” My eyes remained glued to the top page though my arm froze in midair.
I could feel her beady eyes assessing me from deeply embedded sockets, but I refused to turn toward her. A few seconds passed before she sank heavily into her chair. I could hear the casters squeal in protest as she settled in for another long day. If she had a good day, she would remain seated for the majority of her eight hour shift. Rhythmic crunching followed the crinkle of plastic. I turned now, unable to help myself.
She divided her attention between her first snack of the day and her email. In the small room we shared, she looked larger than life. Standing almost six feet tall when standing, she had shoulders one rarely sees outside of a football field. Before the move, I had never met her, so I hadn’t understood why anyone could be afraid of her. Now I knew that fear, though I could tell she didn’t try to cause fear. She just used it to her advantage. Of all my coworkers, she was the only one who never got bullied into doing something she didn’t want to do, even if it was in her job description.
I pondered how I could learn from her example as I turned back to my work. About a hundred items into my daily workload, the sound of a phone ringing jolted me out of my groove. I reached for my phone reflexively before realizing the ringing came from behind me.
Crystal inhaled sharply before addressing the phone in surprisingly soft tones. “This is Crystal. How may I help you?”
I paused, listening shamelessly.
“Of course, Mr. Harrison, I can bring those up to you as soon as they arrive.”
I nodded my head knowingly. Mr. Harrison treated every one well, so we all catered to his every whim. I bent my head back over my work, half listening as Crystal carried on what was a lengthy conversation. When she finally hung up the phone, I was already immersed in my work.
“Sarabeth?” By the time I realized she was talking to me, Crystal must have said my name a few times. Irritation colored her voice.
“Sorry. Yes.” I leaped up from my desk, slamming my knees into the drawer and almost toppling the wall of boxes behind me.
She observed me speculatively as I bent over to rub my knees. “Do you want to help me with something?”
“What’s that?” My heart sank into my stomach.
“Well, it might just help you get a real desk.” Her words hooked me. I leaned in to hear more.
With a gleam in her eye, she detailed her plan…
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