I don't talk about the ins and outs of my work - for obvious reason - but there are some things you know: I work in a corporate office, my secretary is incredibly competent but has the personality of a puppy, and I've been passed over twice for promotion.
I like my job. I sit behind a desk most of the day so I could probably stand to go to the gym more often but in general, I like my job. It has steady hours, excellent pay for the current economic market, and my workload is only stressful during year end which is definitely manageable when I can pawn things off on others and release tension by playing "which drunk is stupid enough to go into the back alley with me". What more could a girl ask for?
I also rant about Heather insesently because she doesn't know when to shut up but the only reason she's not dead or unemployed is because she gets the job done with incredible efficiency. She and I butted heads when I first joined the company and she came on as my secretary. I think I remember telling you about the bitchy pencil skirt with cougar nails who talked back to me my first day on the job but still made sure I was completely prepared for my 9am meeting. All these years later and she still sasses me at every turn and spends so much time taking (loudly) to others on our floor and yet she always has everything organized and ready even before I need it and some days, I even get coffee in the morning.
I think she's a witch.
All of that aside, we've never been close and I've been very happy to keep it that way.
Yesterday was going quite well. Quiet; I got a bit of work done. Until just after lunch when I got a call from the front desk telling me there was a man downstairs refusing to leave until he spoke to Heather and she wasn't at her desk and security was refusing to remove him because he so far hadn't made any direct threats and was simply being a nuisance.
I found Heather locked in a bathroom stall like she was some teenager. But I took pity on her so I awkwardly stood outside the door while she cried and I told Ken to escort the mysterious man off of our property. Heather is actually one of those people who can cry and still look good. Like I needed another reason to hate her.
Eventually she opened the door and told me the man was her soon-to-be ex-husband. He found out about her affair and not only was he filing for divorce, he was threatening to took his frustrations out on her.
She hadn’t been home in a week.
A part of me thinks she would deserve it, but the other part of me cleaned her up, snuck her out the back door, and told her to take the rest of the day off.
I would never consider Heather a real friend of mine but I still thought – hoped – that she would come to me or someone in the office is she needed help. I can’t believe she’d let it get this far without running her mouth.
I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I’m lucky enough that I don’t have to worry about my safety with James – and that’s saying a lot between a police officer and a serial killer – but to be so afraid of the person you agreed to spend your life with…
I pray neither James nor I ever find that out.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Heather doesn’t come in today.
I don’t think I’d blame her.
As always, dear readers,