Walking a Mile in Karen’s Orthopedic Shoes – Part III of III

12:35 PM: Several of those cartographer riff-raff just returned from their lunch break. They took longer than an hour! Personally, I’ve never stayed around late enough to make sure they round out their full 8 hours a day, but it’s very unlikely they do, so it’s going in my report. Furthermore, whenever they come back through the door they’re a hootin’ and a hollerin’ about something that’s probably inappropriate for the workplace… most likely because they have freshened up their buzz from the morning with a few drinks over lunch. I haven’t ever smelled booze on them, but the sin is clearly written on their faces, so I can feel just in my accusations.

12:40 PM: Now they are all just sitting around like a bunch of bumps on a log, all of them moaning about how they didn’t want to come back to work, or they don’t feel like doing anything for the rest of the day other than crosswords. Should have thought about that before you went through that gallon of whiskey before noon!

1:00 PM: The whippersnappers have all but gone to sleep for now. Just a few quiet clicks here and there, but not much shouting. They probably aren’t doing any work, but it’s still nice to have some quiet. I’ll let this one pass… for now.

1:30 PM: That heavy-set fellow from the backroom has come to use our printer 3 times in the past half hour! Not only is he using up all of our ink, toner, and paper, but he is wasting our time when we have to wait 30 seconds for his stuff to finish printing before our stuff does. Doesn’t he know that since we’ve been here longer that our jobs are more important?! Besides… anybody that heavy is obviously a sinner.

1:45 PM: Now the dark-skinned fellow from the backroom keeps coming to use the printer. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something I don’t trust about him. For some reason, even when he smiles at me, I feel scared for my safety.

2:00 PM: Now it’s the backroom fellow with the gangly ape arms keeps coming in to use our printer. Why can’t they get their own? I’m not using it now, but I would be absolutely livid if I had to wait behind a monkey! God made humans better than monkeys, therefore I shouldn’t have to wait behind one!

2:30 PM: We’re running low on boxes... Who’s ass do I have to ream around here to get somebody to ream Kathleen’s ass for more boxes?

2:45 PM: The one called "Jason" has been folding an armada of paper airplanes ever since he got back from lunch, and he is just now beginning to launch a full scale invasion into the cubicle next door. I knew I had to keep an eye out on this one.

3:00 PM: What a bittersweet time of day. Since I get here earlier than them, I get to leave earlier, but that means that the children will go unsupervised for a while. Don’t get me wrong, I love stapling documents together and arranging them in boxes, but I have a set of knitting needles, a bible, and a house full of cats waiting for me at home (oh… and my asshole husband too, the stupid prick). Also, I am free from the torment of watching these clowns play with paper airplanes and rubber bands. Unfortunately these joys are always overshadowed by the haunting thoughts that I can’t shake out the back of my head during my free time: what kind of evil are those children up to after I leave? Do they even stay after I leave? Who keeps stealing the rubber finger tips from my desk? Are they laughing about me right now? I’m just going to have to assume that my deepest fears are hard fact and include them in my report… just in case. At least until I can get my spy cameras set up.

3:05 PM: Whew… I made it to my car without any black people asking me if I had any cigarettes or change. Another successful day that I can consider myself lucky to still be alive.

3:20 PM: Ahh, home… now I have two hours to read the bible cover to cover, practice the piano for Sunday service, knit a hideous sweater for my grandchild, curl up with Mr. Snuggles, and flagellate my husband for whatever petty mistakes he’s made before it’s my bedtime and I have to wake up and do it all over again.