Reviewing the Day

I lost my favorite necklace. The small silver braided chain with the silver sun on it disappeared.  I retrace my steps around the house. I pull my purse apart, my jewelry case apart; take a flashlight to the floor to see if something shiny is in an out of the way place.  No luck.  It’s after 6:00 p.m.  I’ve been home from work for an hour now and all I’ve done is look for the necklace.

I really don’t need this.  I had enough bad things happen at work today.  I don’t need more problems afterwards.  My stomach says dinner time.  I grab a Popsicle from the freezer so I can keep looking.

I really love that necklace.  My grandma gave it to me when I graduated from high school. It was the last gift I received from her before she passed away a few months after she gave it to me.  I’ve been wearing it once or twice a week since I got it. I have to find it.

In the bedroom my cat watches me from the top of the dresser. She looks like a living statue.  Only her ears twitch and head swivels as I move around the room.  I stop to look at her.  We meet eyes.  She looks unconcerned.  Not guilty in the least.  But she’s looked that way before when I lost earrings.

“You didn’t make a toy out of my necklace did you?”

She doesn’t even blink while looking me right in the eyes.  I’m not sure.  If she did paw it around, it could wind up anywhere like under my bed or under the dresser.  I sweep the flashlight thoroughly in those places.

Did I put the necklace on in the bathroom?  Flashlight treatment in there also. No luck. As my mind comes up with places possible and impossible, I wander around my apartment flashing the light and looking in and under things where I know it could not be. I’m just guessing.

Suddenly I realize that a Popsicle is a bad idea for eating while walking around my apartment.  It’s melting then falls apart onto the carpet.  I pick it up the best I can with one hand and walk back to the kitchen to toss it in the garbage.  I’ll clean up the purple dye later.    

I have a flashback.  I remember myself fingering my necklace as I sit at my desk in the open area at work where I do data entry.  I like to rub my fingers over the smooth disc of the sun and follow its pointy rays to their ends even pushing the end of my finger into the point which isn’t sharp. Then I slide the sun on its ring up and down the necklace which makes a little zip sound as it goes back and forth over the braids of the chain. I like it for its play factor as much as for its silver beauty.  

So maybe it’s at work.  I have to retrace my steps.  Now.

Grabbing my purse, I jump into my car and begin to back out of the parking space.  I usually straighten out the car; switch from reverse to drive and move forward.  Instead I find my car just keeps backing up toward the exit to the street. Then it backs up into the street in the direction I go to work.  I’m retracing my steps the way I came home from work but instead of driving forward, I’m in reverse.

If I want to see where I’m going, I have to look out the rear view mirror.  I try turning myself around to look out the back windshield. It doesn’t give me a sweeping view like the front windshield.

While backing up I pass the people on the sidewalk that I saw on the way to my apartment earlier.  Strange.  Everything looks the same - the sun in the sky, people walk their dogs or get their mail or drive into their driveways or parking spaces.  My car just keeps backing up.  There are no other cars in the street in the space we occupy.  No accidents because the car is moving in its own time and space.  Part of me feels upset that I have no control. The other part of me is curious to see what happens.

The car gets to the light and stops to wait, and then backs into the next street, the one I was in just a short time ago. It seems I’m going in reverse back to work, back in time. To distract myself, I look around the car for my necklace. I bend down to check the area around my driver’s seat.  No sign of the necklace.  I look up and grab the steering wheel more out of habit than need.  My drive home was in peace.  I’m backing up now in that same mode.

My stomach’s queasy from all the backward motion. To keep my sense of balance I try to pay more attention to the dashboard or the passenger seat.  I quit looking out the windows or the rearview mirror.

In the parking space I was in an hour ago, the car stops after backing in. The driver’s door flies open and I slide out of my seat, shutting and locking the door as if I just got there.  Now I’m backing up to the front door.  I back all the way through the parking lot. I back up past the cars I walked between earlier.

My stomach is not feeling any better for being in reverse on my own two feet.  I back up the steps to the front door which is open because I went through it earlier.  Oh no. I’m going to have to repeat the event with that wretched coworker.  And here she is in the lobby to confront me as before.

Billie’s face with her days’ worth of coffee breath is back in mine. One time isn’t enough.  “Marie, I told everyone that you go too fast in your data entry. You’re skipping sections.  I know.  I watch you. You think you can get away with it,” she said for all to hear. “Everybody thinks you’re so wonderful. They know the truth now.”

“The truth is, Billie, I am that fast and my statistics show it. The stats also show that I am accurate as well,” I said calmly.

Her eyes glitter. There’s that smirk I’d love to smack. Only I don’t because I like my job.  I’m genuinely quick and accurate because I built up my skills. No one, not even Billie is going to take that away from me.

“It’s just a matter of time. You do a lot of wrong things like chew your gum too loud or eat crunchy snacks.  All to distract other people from their work so you can have the fastest time,” she said.

I look around and see the sympathetic faces I saw earlier. But no one else speaks up this time either.  I’m still on my own.

“My snacks don’t make any more noise than yours.  We need to see if we can sit someplace away from each other. Watching me work and eat must slow you down,” I said.

That doesn’t go over too well with her.  Her seat is in the row above me behind my right shoulder.  Bird’s eye view.  Predator’s eye view.

“I’m not moving,” she said. “I’ve been here longer than you. Besides, moving you will not cover up your cheating ways. Someone else will see what you do.”

Who carries that much spite? Why is she so certain of her judgement of me? I don’t want to leave my spot because I really like my coworkers on either side of me.  We take care of each other and also have some good laughs.

Even though I don’t pay much attention to her and those beside her, I don’t hear a lot of interaction going on behind me. This nonstop nosiness in my business is unnerving. It takes away from my job happiness.  I just want to get along with those around me. My day goes better if we get along.

My supervisor thinks I do a good job with good statistics to show for it. I plan to talk to her about moving.  Maybe she’ll move Billie.

End of the negative conversation, because I’m still in reverse, still backing up.  I look quickly around to see if my necklace is on the floor. No silver sun shining up at me.

Afternoon work at my desk is a repeat of my accomplishments.  I remember every page entry.  I do get to laugh with my coworkers again at the same funny thoughts and jokes.

Returning to lunch break is no fun. This day, I don’t get to eat. When I don’t have time to pack a homemade sandwich, carrots and other good-for-you stuff, I pack a frozen meal to heat in the microwave. That’s what I have for my lunch today.

I unpack a frozen Brussel sprouts and melty cheese with macaroni concoction. One heat and eat meal to keep me happy. I hate to do this mostly because so many others bring their own quick cook meals every day.  Getting a turn to use one of two microwaves uses up the lunch time – the wait in line is too long.  I want to spend it eating and talking with friends.  

It’s almost my turn to heat my lunch.  I’m behind the person who burns her popcorn.

“Nothing smells as good as fresh hot popcorn.  Nothing smells as bad as burnt popcorn,” she said cheerfully as she tosses the steaming blackened bag in the garbage.  A lot of people in the cafeteria pick up their remaining lunches and leave.  People behind me in line rush to join the long one at the other microwave.

Even with the door closed the smell coming from this microwave is awful. I look at the long line for the other microwave.  I look at my package.  It seems pretty air tight.  I doubt it will soak up the smell from the burnt popcorn that lingers heavily in the microwave.

I follow package directions to heat it. Time’s up and I open the door. The air smells worse than ever – burnt popcorn plus a noxious weedy plant smell.  I can see through the clear plastic cover on the package:  the cheese looks like it might be done. The Brussel sprouts don’t feel soft to the touch through the hot plastic. Not enough steam coming off of it either.  I return it to the microwave for another minute.  After all, I have this machine to myself.

The timer sounds again and I open the door. Whoosh!  More bad smells. Burnt crusty cheese and blackened somethings – probably the sprouts that lurk under the melted plastic cover. My lunch is in ruins.

Terrible faces of the remaining coworkers hurry out of the cafeteria.  I toss my burnt lunch into the garbage.  I have nothing cheery to say about it. I check for cash in my purse and find enough for a bag of chips.  As I back out of the cafeteria, I look on the floor for my necklace.  Not here.

Now it’s the morning work session before that satisfying lunch. I again complete many data pages.  Good data entry is the bright spot of my day.  I wonder how long before I find my necklace or will I find it? Except for doing solid work this is not a good day to relive.

I continue to back up in time to the moment I arrive almost late for work.  I feel something fall into the top edge of my shirt. My necklace.  No time to check to see what broke.  I have one minute to log onto my computer to show I’m on time for work.  I jam the necklace into my shallow pants pocket – the one that’s not good enough for a cell phone. There’s more than enough room to hold a necklace though.  I sit down.

Here’s where I think to feel my pocket. The necklace isn’t there.  I look under my desk and near the corner see something silvery, shiny.  At last! My necklace that Grandma gave me! I scoop it up, see that the clasp is broken and put it carefully in the pocket of my wallet which then goes inside my purse.  I close the purse’s open zipper. The necklace is safe.  I breathe a sigh of relief.

I sit in my chair for a few moments. What a strange way to review a work day – by reliving it. I found my necklace and I found I manage some bad situations pretty well. I wonder if I have to go through this whole day again just to get home. That would make three times I live through this one day.  I deserve to go home quickly.  Now how do I get out?  Back out or can I fast forward?