I text Jack to tell him to tell Arthur it was causal clothes Friday and that he could wear jeans. I liked it when people thought such clear thoughts and conveyed them in practical time.
Of course, my mind strayed to Arthur and Albert the two cute gay wogboy twins who I’d known for years. I thought of Arthur’s hot arse in a pair of Levis and wondered if I’d be distracted all day by him? Shake of the head, back to the task at hand.
I was nervous about the day. I had to get this temp into order. I had to get him working. Grrr!
I was regretting giving Louis up. You know, Remy had come over several times during the week to ask how I was and I’d said several times to him that I had a mountain of work, that I was really inundated and he’d replied with “Okay then.” I’m not blaming him, or anything, I am just commenting on a lost opportunity. Not that it is anyone’s fault, it is as much my fault as it is his, but if he’d given me Louis on Tuesday to help out, Louis who I didn’t know that he had, I’d probably would have had everything done and under control without ever having the need for a temp at all, without the need to pay more money to solve the problem.
My first email was from a new staff member who said that she had to set up her email signature and could I give her some directions on how to do that? Her email signature? How do I get these questions? This employee was knew so she couldn’t be under the impression of what I am about to say, clearly, and not wanting to blow my own trumpet, but sometimes I wonder because I always want to answer somebodies question, rather than pass them off onto somebody else, people get to know. I get fobbed off by so many people when I ask questions, I guess I am not so special and I assume they do that to everyone. I don’t, I try to find the answer for people, even if it isn’t my department, so to speak. I think people learn who gibes them the answer, it is a fatal flaw to posses in the modern corporate world, ultimately you just get used like a willing cunt in the red light distract.
Barbie came over to ask how I was. “We got lots done yesterday, the intern was a smart boy, I only had to tell him stuff once (of course, I haven’t checked anything he has done. Nervous grin) and we kind of got up to date.”
“Well, look at you Mr Efficient,” she said.
“And I have a temp this morning.”
“As long as you know you have support.”
“I kind of thought it would be okay,” I said. “But I definitely had a moment when I thought, what if it isn’t okay? It is too late to speak up COB Friday.”
“It is awful when you have the feeling of being overwhelmed,” said Barbie. “I had one of those moments myself yesterday. It is debilitating.”
“I know, you go kind of blank and nothing and you can’t think…”
“You just have to get up and change what you are doing.”
I had to balance off the salary packaging from last night. I’d found the mistake before I left, but I had to print the reports again to prove it.
I had to check the leave and import it. I had to run the autopays. I had to print out the tsunami of time sheets so I could get Arthur to start processing them.
Then I heard, “Hello Christian,” behind me and it was Louis. Remy had given me him for 2 days and Louis had arrived in all his puppy enthusiasm to start work. But, we had only one computer, there was nothing I could really get Louis to do today. I had to tell him I was sending him back to the other building, back to purgatory, in my opinion. Our building, although smaller, is more open as the whole floor is open plan and one is surrounded by windows on every side, where the other building is compartmentalised into small, dark, spaces, with walls on at least two sides. They are all seated in rows of desks seemingly rubbing elbows whenever they more. Louis was some what deflated. His smile slid off his face, but he was stoic. I told him it was nice working with him and he said likewise.
Jack text to say he received the casual clothes text too late and that Arthur would be arriving at 9.30 and probably somewhat over dressed. 9.30, I thought? I should have said 10am. That was only putting off the inevitable.
What else did I have to do? I had to arrange a security tag for him, so I called reception. They had one, not to worry.
I felt nervous. I was in charge. If it was to be, it was up to me, now. I had everything organised. It was done. There was nothing to worry about. What if this doesn’t work? It will. What if I have got it wrong? I haven’t. What happens if I fail? That won’t happen.
I done everything I needed to do by 9.30am.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
The call came, I headed over to reception. The lift doors opened. And there he was, Arthur. I’d had Louis, young, bright eyed and bushy tailed, brimming over with enthusiasm and the willingness to learn. I wouldn’t say that Louis was especially handsome, although he certainly wasn’t ugly, but that fresh-faced, smooth-skinned, untouched by the world yet, has a certain attraction to it. And here, standing in front of me was Louis fifty years hence. Short, a curved spine, like my old aunt with Marfan Syndrome, what was practically a comb-over, prominent teeth, one incisor protruding more than the rest. He had a propensity to spit as he spoke, with white foamy substance forming at each corner of his mouth.
“Arthur,” I said. I held out my hand.
He said mumbled something about what his name, actually, was, none of which I could understand.
“Do you mind if I call you Arthur?”
“Oh jes.” He laughed. His eyes closed and his huge mouth took over 50% of his face. His expression seemed to put far more effort into smiling than talking rendering both functions some what hard to read, understand.
I’d had the cabin boy, with his whole life in front of him, now I was given the old sea dog, land lubbered and one moment before he was sent to pasture.
I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I was repelled, if the truth be known, but this was only a first impression.
The first thing I noticed, actually, was that he was wearing black jeans. I wanted to say, I didn’t think you got the memo, but I didn’t. His white short sleaved shirt looked as though it had missed a couple of washes. He seemed to have a multitude of coats and bags in his grasp, the reason for which was not apparent to me. It was as though he was travelling through Europe on the train and he’d drifted off to sleep and he’d come too with the stationary train at the station at which he wanted to alight and he’d gathered all of his possession together in his arms and he jumped from the train moments before it departed.
He seemed like a man whose wife had died in the last few years, leaving him alone unprepared to fend for himself.
As we headed out into the street, he told me he’d got lost. It was no surprise to me, I thought. Louis wouldn’t have got lost, was my next thought.
We got to my office and I turned and said, “We are down in the corner.” I strode ahead. When I got to my desk, I looked back and Arthur had stopped at the front of the floor. He’d put his things on the cabinets and he seemed to be organising them. WTF, I thought. I headed back.
“Just this way.”
“Oh… righteo,” he said. He picked up his tat and followed me.
He was okay. He got straight to work. He was quiet, just how I like to work.
The one thing that was odd was that he went to the toilet twice and he spent an inordinate amount of time in there. I laughed to myself, did I think he was emptying his colostomy bag?
Louis came over at lunch time, like a breath of fresh air, asking if I’d found his notebook. I hadn’t but I offered to call him if I did. Arthur had gone to his first inordinately long toilet break when Louis turned up. I was kind of pleased, as I felt somewhat ashamed for him to see who I had replaced him with.
Was I being ageist? I reckon I was being aestheticist? Either way, I’m guessing I was being horrible.
He told me the job was a lot of work. “Clearly, one person could never do this.”
I said to enjoy the weekend. I told him the tsunami of time sheets would arrive by 9am Monday. He said, “You sure know how to spoil a person’s weekend.”
Barbie came over at 4.30pm, I told her I was about to leave.
I said that I was getting a headache from looking down at the spread sheets and then looking up at the screen. I did the motion with my head. She did the motion too, and for a moment there it looked as though we were both trying to do the impersonation of sucking cock.
No comments:
Post a Comment