A bad Day at Work
You can imagine my surprise when I saw Mr. Terry Schatt dislodging himself from the driver’s seat of his midnight blue Dodge Intrepid. He had pulled into the parking lot like he had every previous morning for the past fifteen years. Only this time he drove erratically, bumping into two other cars and laying his blue beast across three parking spaces. There were only nine or ten cars in the lot or it could have been much worse.
I must admit that I was relieved that he caused no real damage and even entertained the notion of actually going up to him and returning his wallet.
I watched open-mouthed as Mr. Schatt stood up next to his car. His midsection was noticeably bloated, probably due to the gas, and his arms dangled loosely at his sides. I could tell even from where I was hiding that he was considerably disoriented. He swung his head from side to side violently as if he was trying to expel something from his ears. I was puzzled that he had his suit jacket on; I don’t remember him having one yesterday. His hair was matted down tightly onto his oversize head in his usual comb-over manner. I could tell that it wasn’t hair oil. The look on his face was blank, an empty canvas completely void of any emotion whatsoever.
Although this too did not surprise me I have to admit that it still alarmed me. Who knows what lurks behind the face with no emotion, no humanity, no soul?
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Could he be looking for me? What worse fate could there be for any employee whose boss’s mind averts to them?
What would I do? Continue hiding and avoid the inevitable or simply face my fears and confront my boss.
The options did battle in my head but eventually the easier, and safer, alternative won, partly due to the quality of my hiding spot. I knew there was no way Mr. Schatt would be able to find me.