Here's the idea: Every day, I will set a timer for 30 minutes, and for that thirty minutes I will try my hardest to write a story. The stories will be random and I will try to complete them all before the 30 minutes ends. Sometimes I won't succeed, but that's half the fun!
Should a day be missed, and a story is felt to be adequate enough of a second part, a two part day will be created!
Let the game begin!
Friday, August 12, 2011
*Has some inappropriate language*
“What is this shit?! Give me a new one now before I come back there and kick your ass!” I yelled as I threw my Venti soy decaf caramel macchiato latte with two pumps of the raspberry syrup, whipped cream and the caramel drizzle on top into the face of the punk faced kid who made it. She screamed as the coffee hit her face and bare arms, but that’s what you get when you don’t do your job well.
After I got my new drink, done properly this time, I started my walk to work.
I work at a large corporation, but I’m not going to go telling you where that is. Next thing you know, you’ll probably be riding me, thinking you got shit on me and wanna take over, but that’s not gonna happen. All you gotta know about me is that I have a very prestigious job, and I am very important and I do my job very well and get paid in the higher six figures every year. In other words, I’m the shit.
Anyway, once I taught that girl who was boss at the coffee shop on the bottom floor of my building, I started to walk to my office. On the way, you really see the scum that you’re forced to live with. Those average people, thinking their lives are significant. What naive idiots.
My coworkers, by this I of course mean other vice president level officials, are often shocked that I even walk the streets among the human trash of this city. I always say that I would take a chauffeured drive into work, but walking among the filth reminds me of how superior I am. That always makes them laugh before they order more 200 dollar bottles of wine while we are out to lunch.
Today though, when I got to my office building, the doorman didn’t open the door for me when I first arrived, so of course I had him fired. How dare he not see me coming and make me open my own door. He actually cried as he explained that he really needed the money to support his family. Pathetic simpleton. I was sickened by him. The fact that he touched me was farther than I could stand. I had him dragged from the building.
By the time I reached my floor, I was late for my meeting because of that putrid doorman and coffee whore. “I’m sorry for my tardiness,” I explained to the rest of the board, “you know how it is when you’re dealing with the lower class. They make life so difficult.”
“Of course,” replied my assistant, quickly running to give me a new Venti soy decaf caramel macchiato with two pumps of the raspberry syrup, whipped cream and the caramel drizzle.
The meeting went smoothly of course, after all, I was running it. I had realized the day before that the company, while successful already, was hemorrhaging money on unnecessary workers, and had come to the decision that we had to trim the fat and get rid of a lot of our desk monkeys. By the end of the day I personally laid off 200 men and women who had worked for us.
Like the doorman, a lot of these men and women tried to fight me on my decision to fire them. They just don’t understand business. I explained to them that we didn’t need them, and that their position could be done by a monkey, who we could pay much less, mere bananas, rather than their salary, but they didn’t understand. They yelled at me and called me arrogant and majority of them yelled that I’d see them in court. Their case won’t reach the courts though. Let’s be serious.
After work I usually go out for drinks with some of the other people from the office. You need to watch where you go though so you don’t have to deal with the squalor of the lower class, but in New York City, it is easy to find bars and clubs way to elite and expensive for those scum to come near them.
After I had had a good enough time with my “peers”, if you can honestly call them that, since by this point I am close enough to being their boss (none of them have any direction. Pathetic.) I began to make my way home.
As I said before, I like walking, although I will admit, there is a difference between walking the streets of the big city at 8AM and walking them at 2AM. When I was a block from my building I heard someone yell from behind me.
“Hey you punk!” the voice called out.
I will admit, I was a little tipsy at the time. I turned around and saw some rather out of shape man coming at me. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“What?!” he exclaimed, throwing a bottle of beer to the ground, shattering it, sending beer in all directions. “You don’t remember me?!”
“Hey!” I yelled out, “I don’t a fuck who you are buddy, but you owe me brand new Burberry shoes! What are you thinking throwing beer bottles!” “You fired me today!” he continued.
“Eh, you bore me,” I said as turned around, throwing up a hand, as to say, leave me alone. “You can’t expect me to remember every one of you pathetic minions, can you?”
“I think you should remember me!” I heard him say as I heard him cock his gun.
I turned around, “Really, you insignificant pion?” I laughed. “You’re going to come at me with a gun? You’re more pathetic than I thought!”
“You think this is going to get you your job back?” “No. I know it won’t, but I just wanted to get even with you. You took my life away from me, so now I’ll do the same.”
“Oh, you’re being so dramatic,” I yawned.
I could see he was drunk, and I knew that I would be able to stop this pretty easy. Again, not the best idea to be walking around at 2AM, even less so, walking through a back alley to cut off some time. The was no one nearby, so this had to be handled by me. And I had no problem with that.
I kicked the gun out from his hands, and he tried to punch me. Can you believe it? Doesn’t he know that my personal trainer has been training me in several different fighting techniques for years now? I dodged some of his drunken blows and knocked him straight to the ground in two shots.
The cops finally arrived and took him away in handcuffs. They told me he had been the doorman of my office and I laughed all the harder.
The following day I made it into the newspaper for that “attack”, if you could honestly call it that, and the board decided that my dedication to the job, my forward thinking, firing all those the other day, and all I had went through in my harrowing “attack” was enough for them to realize who should fill the long overdue open position as the CEO of the company. So here I am in my new office, making a cushy seven figures. I guess what they say about karma is true!