DUI
Jack poured himself a drink to sit back in his chair with and ponder about the day. He'd had the same routine for years, and it was comfortable. This new assistant of his had been there for six months and ragged him about his scotch. Damn kid, she just doesn't get it.
Kathy walked up to Jack's door and knocked. He turned and motioned her in, despite the fact he knew he was going to get a mocking. Sure enough, Kathy saw the drink and said, "You know, you don't need that stuff." Jack sat down in a humph, and said, "You've told me that before, and I don't really care. You're my assistant, not my keeper."
"Suit yourself," she replied, and turned on her heels and walked out. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was now going to get that evening of peace he had so been looking forward to.
The next morning Jack had to drop off a file in Kathy's office. He approached her empty desk, set the file on top of her in-box, and noticed the prescription bottle on her desk. "That's funny, I don't remember her saying she was sick. Wonder what this is for...." He picked up the bottle and looked at it. Zoloft. He frowned at the thought that his new assistant was in need of drugs, when she walked in. "Find anything you like!?" she angrily called. He turned to face her and she stormed over to yank the bottle from his hand. "I've taken it for years, thank you, and I don't abuse them." She opened the bottle and poured out most of the pills into her hand. "See, refill done four days ago, and as you can see, most of the pills are still here – three month supply. OK!!??" "Kathy, I wasn't trying to pry..." "Good! Now you can leave!" Jack looked down and left her office, feeling her eyes burn into his back as he did.
A few hours went by. Kathy walked into Jack's office, slowly approached the conference table, and sat in the chair to the left of Jack's desk. She was nervous, perched on the edge of the chair, with her hands folded in her lap and her spine stiff with anxiety. She began softly, "It was almost Christmas, finals of my second year of law school. My parents were visiting me on the way to California to see friends for the holidays. They left early, about 6:30 am to get an early start on their long drive. I went back to sleep. I woke up when the phone rang about 8. It was a state trooper. I only remember his first words, 'I am so sorry to tell you this....' I realized the rest during the trial. Just after they got on I-5 heading south, a drunk driver crossed the grassy median dividing the lanes and struck my parents' car. He was doing about 90 at impact. They were killed instantly. I somehow got through finals, but I couldn't function. My friends were all worried. I went to a psychiatrist and he gave me the Zoloft. I used to take a lot more. What you saw in the bottle used to be a one-month supply. Now it's a three-month supply. I want to stop taking it. But... I'm afraid that all these years I have pushed my feelings down, and that if I do stop taking them, all those feelings will flood me and I won't know what to do with them. So. Now you know. And now you know why I disapprove of even social drinking. He was just a social drinker, too, you see. With a blood/alcohol of .18. Oregon's limit is .08."
Jack drew a heavy breath, and studied his glass for a moment, then set it carefully on his desk as he loosened his tie with his other hand. He looked over at Kathy who was looking past him at this point to the picture of his daughter on the credenza. Suddenly that drink didn't seem so appealing anymore. He said, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea...."
"I know you didn't, Jack, and I apologize for going off on you so hard earlier. It's just a really touchy subject for me, and you had found my rather ugly little secret before I was ready to fill you in. You are my boss, and I guess you have a right to know, but I just... I don't know.... I wasn't ready to tell you yet. Can we get out of here and go get some dinner?"
"Of course. Chinese or Italian? I'll buy."
"Italian would be great, and you don't have to. I don't need pity, just understanding."
He smiled softly and said, "Then you shall have no pity. Let's go." He rose and gathered his beat-up old green coat, then waited for her to stand. He walked her out, and turned out the lights to his office. He spotted his glass on his desk, and made a vow to himself to get sober. Just as she said, you bury your problems for so long, hidden by a drug, you don't know how to deal with them anymore, and it was time he found out.
Jack poured himself a drink to sit back in his chair with and ponder about the day. He'd had the same routine for years, and it was comfortable. This new assistant of his had been there for six months and ragged him about his scotch. Damn kid, she just doesn't get it.
Kathy walked up to Jack's door and knocked. He turned and motioned her in, despite the fact he knew he was going to get a mocking. Sure enough, Kathy saw the drink and said, "You know, you don't need that stuff." Jack sat down in a humph, and said, "You've told me that before, and I don't really care. You're my assistant, not my keeper."
"Suit yourself," she replied, and turned on her heels and walked out. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was now going to get that evening of peace he had so been looking forward to.
The next morning Jack had to drop off a file in Kathy's office. He approached her empty desk, set the file on top of her in-box, and noticed the prescription bottle on her desk. "That's funny, I don't remember her saying she was sick. Wonder what this is for...." He picked up the bottle and looked at it. Zoloft. He frowned at the thought that his new assistant was in need of drugs, when she walked in. "Find anything you like!?" she angrily called. He turned to face her and she stormed over to yank the bottle from his hand. "I've taken it for years, thank you, and I don't abuse them." She opened the bottle and poured out most of the pills into her hand. "See, refill done four days ago, and as you can see, most of the pills are still here – three month supply. OK!!??" "Kathy, I wasn't trying to pry..." "Good! Now you can leave!" Jack looked down and left her office, feeling her eyes burn into his back as he did.
A few hours went by. Kathy walked into Jack's office, slowly approached the conference table, and sat in the chair to the left of Jack's desk. She was nervous, perched on the edge of the chair, with her hands folded in her lap and her spine stiff with anxiety. She began softly, "It was almost Christmas, finals of my second year of law school. My parents were visiting me on the way to California to see friends for the holidays. They left early, about 6:30 am to get an early start on their long drive. I went back to sleep. I woke up when the phone rang about 8. It was a state trooper. I only remember his first words, 'I am so sorry to tell you this....' I realized the rest during the trial. Just after they got on I-5 heading south, a drunk driver crossed the grassy median dividing the lanes and struck my parents' car. He was doing about 90 at impact. They were killed instantly. I somehow got through finals, but I couldn't function. My friends were all worried. I went to a psychiatrist and he gave me the Zoloft. I used to take a lot more. What you saw in the bottle used to be a one-month supply. Now it's a three-month supply. I want to stop taking it. But... I'm afraid that all these years I have pushed my feelings down, and that if I do stop taking them, all those feelings will flood me and I won't know what to do with them. So. Now you know. And now you know why I disapprove of even social drinking. He was just a social drinker, too, you see. With a blood/alcohol of .18. Oregon's limit is .08."
Jack drew a heavy breath, and studied his glass for a moment, then set it carefully on his desk as he loosened his tie with his other hand. He looked over at Kathy who was looking past him at this point to the picture of his daughter on the credenza. Suddenly that drink didn't seem so appealing anymore. He said, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea...."
"I know you didn't, Jack, and I apologize for going off on you so hard earlier. It's just a really touchy subject for me, and you had found my rather ugly little secret before I was ready to fill you in. You are my boss, and I guess you have a right to know, but I just... I don't know.... I wasn't ready to tell you yet. Can we get out of here and go get some dinner?"
"Of course. Chinese or Italian? I'll buy."
"Italian would be great, and you don't have to. I don't need pity, just understanding."
He smiled softly and said, "Then you shall have no pity. Let's go." He rose and gathered his beat-up old green coat, then waited for her to stand. He walked her out, and turned out the lights to his office. He spotted his glass on his desk, and made a vow to himself to get sober. Just as she said, you bury your problems for so long, hidden by a drug, you don't know how to deal with them anymore, and it was time he found out.