Office Interlude

Okay, sports fans, I need your opinion. I started this story a couple of years ago and I've opened it up about a dozen times, each time staring at it with a stupid look on my face and closing it back up. I don't know what to do with it, or even if it's worth doing anything with. If you see any opportunities for this, please let me know. If not, I'd like to know that, as well. Thanks...



Tidy… not anal-retentively or scrupulously-scrubbed… just tidy. Tina Grier felt no compelling need to spend hours in the bathroom applying this soft-scrub cleanser to her tile or that non-oxidizing, pH-safe skin cleaner to her hands and face. Plain ol’ soap and water would suffice for both, and if people didn’t like it, they could kiss her ass at high noon on Main Street.

Tina’s personal affairs took on much the same philosophy. Never belle of the ball, neither was she apt to sit home on Friday nights waiting for Mr. Right to take pity on her by inviting her to partake of cheap wine as a prelude for hot, sweaty sex. There would be plentiful chances for hooking up at Bibo’s, should she feel the inclination to walk on the wild side. After all, she could clean her own bathroom. Why should she allow a man to assume a non-proportional aliquot of her time… or her heart? Men… you can’t live with ‘em and there’s no bounty on ‘em, so what’s the sense? You want to get close to me with that magic wand of yours, pal, you better show up with trinkets. No, relationships served no purpose except to further muddy the waters of an all-too-shallow stream. Years ago, her brother unwittingly taught her all she needed to know about dealing with the opposite sex when she overheard him explain the Four F’s to Jimmy Gallagher-- find ‘em, feel ‘em, fuck ‘em, and forget ‘em. Life was complicated enough without cleaning up after some drunk Neanderthal who considers farting an art form.

“Stipe, Blick and Rush”. How many times had she repeated that phrase into her headphone as she waited to push the appropriate button on her console? Thousands, certainly, maybe even hundreds of thousands. Nearly as often, she repeated in her mind, Wipe Quick and Flush. It kept her sane wondering when the phrase would sneak out and cost her dearly. Maybe she’d have everyone in the office throw in a few bucks and start a lottery—pick the date and win the money. What the hell, I was looking for a job when I found this one.

“Good morning, Mr. Rush, I’ll connect you.” Yea, like you aren’t already connected. Tina postulated various scenarios involving the partners in this firm. One day, she’d be convinced that Lawrence Rush was a front-man for the mob, the next she couldn’t conceive of him being smart enough to represent a jay-walker. Gallagher was right… working around lawyers closely resembles life in a bowl of granola… what isn’t fruits or nuts is flakes. The thought that one day someone from this motley consortium of misfits might actually wield a gavel or run for political office— well, simply put, terrified her. Briefly, Tina considered the plight of some of the firm’s junior members. How many judges and politicians had climbed the ladder of success on the backs of unfortunate clerks, non-partners and other myriad stooges who were either unable or unwilling to merely refuse to carry the burden? Did any of them even realize they were being played?

The answers would have to wait. If she didn’t get to the break room before the rush, she’d be forced to deal with The Associates, the love-starved bevy of junior barristers who seemed to hover there, never further than a spoon-toss from the coffee pot. No matter what time she took her break, Tina seemed doomed to suffer the indignities of whichever Lothario might choose to exercise his libidinous urges upon her posterior while she poured her coffee... not to mention the new female temp from Three who couldn’t speak without touching her in some way. Why can’t that dike keep her hands to herself, Gawd… Tina wouldn’t put up with it if a man did it, but some women seemed to consider it a form of bonding. If she pitched a bitch, she’d be the office carpetmuncher before lunch.

Long hairy fingers overlapped her own as Tina opened the release, allowing the coffee to pour into her mug. A quick glance over her right shoulder confirmed her worst fears. Seth Wineberg.

“I swear to God, Seth, if you grab my ass today I throw this coffee in your face, job or no job.”

“Well, so much for foreplay...”

“I got your foreplay right here, Smegma-man.” She offered, the third finger of her right hand pointing skyward, unaccompanied by its mates. “This is for you…” Tina added, then pointing the finger towards him, she jabbed at him repeatedly, “and this is for the horse you rode in on!”

Seth Wineberg set his cup down on the counter and grabbed his heart, ala-Fred Sanford. “Are you never going to let me up? Jesus, Tina, I can’t help it that my parents didn’t deign to have their son ceremonially mutilated shortly after birth by way of tribute to some antiquated, and may I add, totally unnecessary religious ritual?”

“Yea, are those the same parents who evidently also felt it unnecessary to teach you any of the finer points of hygiene, choosing, instead, to merely assess your potential and opt to leave you in the forest during your formative years to be raised by wolves? You may be the only male Jew in New York City over the age of six months who considers dick-cheese to be a fashion statement.” Tina daintily blended the creamer into her morning dose of caffeine, rather pleased with her little rant. A self-assured smirk crossed her lips as she stirred. Take that, Counselor.

“Oh, really? You didn’t seem to mind it Friday night when you were giving me he—... Oh, never mind. What’s the point? Have it your way, Tina, you’re a goddess and I’m the frog who didn’t turn into Prince Charming. Better luck on your next trip to the pond.” The young lawyer glared at Tina and turned to depart.

For an instant, she watched him walk away. “You could have called, you know…” Seth kept walking without regard, except to raise his right hand and wave bye-bye to her as he disappeared around the corner.

Tina gulped her coffee quickly and rinsed her cup in the sink before placing it back on its hook. Head down to avoid any eye contact, she marched back to her desk. If the bastard didn’t have such a cute butt, there’d be a bounty on his kind.

******