Business As Usual
By Adam Skinner
"I'm off to work. See you tonight."
"Goodbye, dear."
Such a familiar conversation. That little dialogue, every morning. It never ends. But do I want it to? I don't know anymore. Life gets so mundane at times, you know? Every day, off to work. I do the paperwork, type the data, go home. Today is no different. As I walk out the door, I grab my coat and hat, the same one as always. I give a little sigh and go to my car.
'Traffic backed up for miles,' I hear over the radio. Big surprise. It always is. I hit the morning rush of vehicles, and just as the all-seeing radio dictated, there were thousands of them. All of which were right in front of me. I recall someone once saying that if all the cars in the world were lined up end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try and pass them. Should I? Nah. Too much to lose. I have a good job, a wife, a house. Payments for all of them; it's her anniversary today. I never know what to get her...jewelry? Something useful? Shoes?
Finally the asphalt congestion clears up. I arrive at work exactly five minutes early, just like I always do. My coworkers greet me with the obligatory hello, and I proceed to my cubicle. Sipping the subpar coffee that our boss calls "cost-effective", I don't even notice where I am. That doesn't stop anything. Who needs to think about doing something when you always do it anyway? My autopilot kicks in, one of the few perks that comes with mindless autonomy.
The day crawls by. Keystroke after keystroke, paper after paper, I fill in the blanks and get the work done. Every few minutes I glance at my office supply theme clock, and every time that hand never moves more than a millimeter. Finally, it hits that magic number: 5:00. I carry my exhausted self down to the street and to the car, my freedom.
Deciding to make things interesting, I pull my cell phone about a block from my car. If I'm going to get her a present, I might as well get her a good one. She picks up the phone back at home.
"Hello?"
"Hi, honey."
"Hi. How was work today?"
"Eh, the usual. Say, I was wondering, if someone you know were to get you something you like for someday that may or not be today, would you like it if this purely hypothetical person got you a certain pair of shoes, perhaps?"
She laughs. "Tricky, aren't we? Yes, you can go ahead and tell this person that I'd love that."
I smile back. "So, I was just wondering...you know, for that person..."
"Yes?" I can hear the grin through her voice.
"...flats or pumps?"
Just then, at my finest moment, some punk comes running out of nowhere and grabs my phone!
"Hey!! What the shit!? That's my phone!" I look around frantically for a nearby cop. "That guy took my phone!!"
There's no one near that gives a damn about my phone. I spin, still searching for some person to help me. This isn't my job. Why is this happening to me? Why did he do that? Who is that guy in the suit? In the reflective signpost next to me, I see someone unfamiliar. Some guy in a suit...'Nice shades', I think. They remind me of mine. I pivot around, looking for this sudden intrusion but find no one. Only that stupid phone- stealing punk. As my anger at him grows, I draw my Desert Eagle and resume the chase.
"I'm off to work. See you tonight."
"Goodbye, dear."
Such a familiar conversation. That little dialogue, every morning. It never ends. But do I want it to? I don't know anymore. Life gets so mundane at times, you know? Every day, off to work. I do the paperwork, type the data, go home. Today is no different. As I walk out the door, I grab my coat and hat, the same one as always. I give a little sigh and go to my car.
'Traffic backed up for miles,' I hear over the radio. Big surprise. It always is. I hit the morning rush of vehicles, and just as the all-seeing radio dictated, there were thousands of them. All of which were right in front of me. I recall someone once saying that if all the cars in the world were lined up end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try and pass them. Should I? Nah. Too much to lose. I have a good job, a wife, a house. Payments for all of them; it's her anniversary today. I never know what to get her...jewelry? Something useful? Shoes?
Finally the asphalt congestion clears up. I arrive at work exactly five minutes early, just like I always do. My coworkers greet me with the obligatory hello, and I proceed to my cubicle. Sipping the subpar coffee that our boss calls "cost-effective", I don't even notice where I am. That doesn't stop anything. Who needs to think about doing something when you always do it anyway? My autopilot kicks in, one of the few perks that comes with mindless autonomy.
The day crawls by. Keystroke after keystroke, paper after paper, I fill in the blanks and get the work done. Every few minutes I glance at my office supply theme clock, and every time that hand never moves more than a millimeter. Finally, it hits that magic number: 5:00. I carry my exhausted self down to the street and to the car, my freedom.
Deciding to make things interesting, I pull my cell phone about a block from my car. If I'm going to get her a present, I might as well get her a good one. She picks up the phone back at home.
"Hello?"
"Hi, honey."
"Hi. How was work today?"
"Eh, the usual. Say, I was wondering, if someone you know were to get you something you like for someday that may or not be today, would you like it if this purely hypothetical person got you a certain pair of shoes, perhaps?"
She laughs. "Tricky, aren't we? Yes, you can go ahead and tell this person that I'd love that."
I smile back. "So, I was just wondering...you know, for that person..."
"Yes?" I can hear the grin through her voice.
"...flats or pumps?"
Just then, at my finest moment, some punk comes running out of nowhere and grabs my phone!
"Hey!! What the shit!? That's my phone!" I look around frantically for a nearby cop. "That guy took my phone!!"
There's no one near that gives a damn about my phone. I spin, still searching for some person to help me. This isn't my job. Why is this happening to me? Why did he do that? Who is that guy in the suit? In the reflective signpost next to me, I see someone unfamiliar. Some guy in a suit...'Nice shades', I think. They remind me of mine. I pivot around, looking for this sudden intrusion but find no one. Only that stupid phone- stealing punk. As my anger at him grows, I draw my Desert Eagle and resume the chase.