The Unlikely Artist

Nathan Jessen

March 29, 2025

The Unlikely Artist

Strough’s mind wandered with no bounds, as it constantly found new avenues to venture down. He puzzled on thoughts for hours, exploring hypotheticals that were only constrained by the extent of his imagination. He shifted in his shitty chair once again, resetting his posture. As fun as rolling chairs were, the unintentional sliding as he shifted his weight around made him want to chuck the thing over the thin divider walls of his compartment. Strough checked the time again, 3:34pm it said from the little box at the lower right corner of his screen. Just another hour and a half and he could peace out, until tomorrow of course, and then the day after that. Within a measly 30 minutes of his boring logistics work, he had daydreamed of having a dance-off against the girl he saw at the bar last night; he also had not missed the opportunity to epicly blow her off when she asked for his number. Reality took over once the 4 o'clock people checked out for the night, out of the three of them, at least Olson chatted with him before heading out. Olson was a good guy. Funny too. The kind of person who probably lived through Strough’s wildest dreams as if they were everyday occurrences.

His mouse began acting up, the damn thing would stutter every so often, how hard was it to give an office worker a decent mouse? As Strough looked between tabs and typed the numbers into the spreadsheet application on his computer he thought of everything he could do after earning his freedom. When he had first started working this position, he spent his energy striving for competence. Even when he put his all into improving, someone had always done the same job better than he could, so why improve? Strough instead learned how much he needed to accomplish to have typical results when compared with his coworkers. Afterall anyone with any experience with computers could do his job, assuming they were pitiful enough to settle for the soulless job in the first place. Strough was a slave to his mouse and keyboard, they controlled him, rather than the inverse.

At 4:28 Strough overheard Syl and Gifford talk about their experience backpacking, and began pondering over how the hell a compass worked. It had something to do with magnets and the north pole right? Actually, didn’t it have something to do with- are you for real? Strough’s cursor stopped responding to the movements of the wireless mouse. The damn mouse was dead and he had just given the last of his spare batteries to Gene. Strough checked his drawer anyway, further examining the empty container as he slid it out of the darkness and into the light. It was 4:42 though, was he really about to ask someone for batteries to work for another 18 minutes? He wasn't about to get much done anyway, the last 30 minutes of work was seldom spent doing anything productive and besides, he had already met his self determined quota for the day. Eh, whatever, I'll just head out a bit earlier today.

Strough went straight home, avoiding the bar two blocks down where he had stayed till 11:00 the previous night. He walked through the door to his cozy apartment at 5:03, feeling a shred of guilt at the fact that his shift ended three minutes ago yet he was already home. He set his coat upon the small table in between the living room and the kitchen and overly dramatically collapsed on the couch. After fixing something to eat, he let his mind grow dull as he watched an episode of the latest comedy show he found himself enjoying. A spark of motivation fluttered within him, one that had been on his mind throughout the day, it was time to get back to work.

It could hardly be considered work, but Strough felt he was being productive when he sat at his desk looking upon a mess of wires and random metal bits. Strough was an office worker by day and a jewelry maker by night. A treasured hobby of his that nobody knew about. He often struggled to find the motivation to create after work, but tonight he imagined creating a golden bracelet for the girl at the bar he had a dance battle with. He would likely never run into her again, let alone find the courage to give it to her, but at least it would be a good Christmas gift for one of his older sisters. He of course would tell them that he bought it at the mall or something. He would not let them critique his passion, this was his thing. He knew that others would strip away its joy and make him feel insignificant. Anyone could put numbers into a spreadsheet, but only his genius could create the beautiful creations that he brought to life.

Strough became comfy in his well designed chair at the desk in the corner of his room. The room would have been completely dark, if not for the bright lamp that illuminated his workspace. Strough first set his desired materials into his beading board, a tool that allowed him to visualize what he was about to commit to making as well as allow him to measure its size. He felt invigorated, more awake than he had been all day as he masterfully worked with pliers, wire cutters, and jump rings above his beading mat. His mind became lost once again, but this time in his project. As he put in his finishing touches, he held the bracelet up to the light of the lamp. It was perfect. He left it upon his desk to find in the morning, as he slid into bed feeling alarmingly awake considering it was 11:39 at night. Strough felt like he had earned a nice long break but his dreadful job found its way to the forefront of his brain. With a blaring alarm set for 8:00am, he quieted his brain, allowing Strough to drift off into the comfort of his dreams.