Another Day at the Office

As I exit the shower, steam trails behind me and hangs thick in the air like a miasma. I swipe my hand across the fogged up mirror to stare at the darkened hollows that now surround my eyes. Another night with not enough sleep. This punishing schedule feels like hell, but I remind myself that it will all be worth it to get that big promotion. 

I change quickly, pulling on my pinstriped suit of armour for the day and trudge into the kitchen in my socks. As I flip on the kettle and reach for an apple, an alert on my phone pulls me from my daze. Oh hellfire and damnation! They’ve moved my time slot up to this afternoon. I run through my presentation again quickly in my head, nerves and insides roiling like the water in the kettle that is now reaching its boiling point. I choose to forgo the apple in place of a large travel mug, now filled up with my searingly hot coffee. 

A frantic dash around the house and I gather up the rest of my paraphernalia into my work satchel and make for the door. I keep telling myself that it will be alright. I have polished and honed this presentation over the last week and that whoever's chosen for the promotion, it will likely be out of my hands. I just need to stay calm and focus on the work. Treat it like just another day at the office. I grab a favourite pair of black heels from the shoe rack. Wearing my lucky shoes today can only help. 

My front door closes with a bang and I jerk up the handle to lock it, thoughts buzzing frantically around in my brain like flies on a carcass. 

“Morning Hope!” a friendly voice calls over from next door. “Gosh, you’re off early again today.”

“Yeah, no rest for the wicked!” I joke back, pausing to wonder if I should spare a few minutes to talk to Audrey. She lives all by herself now since her husband John died last year. “Lovely day today,” I begin, hopping quickly down the steps. 

“Oh yes, it’s nice to finally get some sunshine.” Audrey replies, her face cheering. 

I glance down at my watch and a bubble of panic rises within me.

“…Although they said this morning that we can expect…”

“Sorry, got to dash, big presentation today!” 

“Oh…of course dear, take care!” she flusters. 

I wave a farewell to her and increase the tempo of my walk towards the bus stop. Once I have this promotion I will be able to spare the time for a proper chat and see how she’s holding up, maybe even tomorrow, I rationalise. 

I tap my foot impatiently, waiting for the bus to arrive. Should I have one last look at that presentation on my phone? I feel like I already know it inside out, but surely one more look will help. As I hear the bus nearing, I keep my face glued to the phone in my hand, my half drunk mug of coffee in the other. I stride towards the bus and suddenly feel myself lurching forwards. Crying out in alarm I just manage to catch myself before I career into the road and the oncoming bus. Shakily, I look down at the strap of my bag twisted around my heel, its contents spilled out onto the pavement.

I quickly pocket my phone and stuff the contents of my satchel, along with what is left of my dignity, back inside and scramble aboard the bus. Well, that could have gone better, but at least I won’t be doing my presentation from a hospital bed!

I descend the bus just as the heavens decide to open and I am forced to use my satchel as a makeshift umbrella. Luckily work isn’t far and I manage to weave around puddles on my route to the office block. I eventually arrive at the monolith of glass and steel, cleansed of all my cheerfulness by the heavy rainfall.   

When I make it into the foyer my clothes are starting to cling to me like a second skin. I stand there for a few moments creating my own puddle before pressing on. I briefly flash my ID card at Peter from security, eager to get to my office and discard my sodden blazer as soon as possible.  

“Bit of bad luck being caught in that downpour,” Peter says conversationally. “Seems to have stopped completely now.”

“Yes, I have noticed,” I reply tersely.

Without taking the hint he continues. “Do you think someone upstairs is upset with you?” he smirks.

“Look, the only upstairs I care about at the moment is the one where my office is, as I need to dry out, so, if you’ll excuse me…” 

I manoeuvre past him, gingerly picking my way over to the nearest lift, being careful not to slip on the polished floor. I am determined not to give him something else to chuckle about.  

As the doors finally crawl open I dash inside and immediately start fumbling in my bag for a mirror to assess the damage the rain has left. Not too bad, a few hairs out of place, but at least my head has remained dry. 

Too late an urgent voice pulls me out of my restorative preening and I just catch a glimpse of a perturbed face and outstretched hand before the lift doors close in front of them. The lift begins to ascend before I can make amends. Damn! That was unfortunate, but still, it can’t be helped now and I have bigger worries today. I chalk it up to bad luck and try to focus my mind on which calls and emails I should prioritise making to start the day. 

The morning rushes by in a haze of frantic keystrokes, damp clothes and back to back phone calls. 

As lunch ticks by, I keep glancing at the clock hanging above the door in my office, willing it to slow down. In between bites of my sandwich and sips of coffee I plan out my next move. I should have just enough minutes left to photocopy those handouts before my time slot. Then I can slip into the conference room and load up the presentation early to check it all works.

Brushing away the last stray crumbs from my now discarded meal I make my way down the corridor brusquely. I cast a silent prayer out to whomever might be listening that there won't be a queue at the photocopier this time.

Just before I am about to turn into the room I hear voices and my heart sinks. There are two women inside from another department. One nursing a mug of tea and the other one holding an impressive stack of files with loose papers sticking out haphazardly. As they are deep in conversation, I wonder if I will be able to slip past to claim the photocopier first. 

I start the uncomfortable social dance by smiling as I enter the room. The women both smile back at me and continue with their conversation. 

“How is your youngest doing, is she settling into school better now?” asks the mug lady. 

I start to edge my way around them towards my goal. 

“Yes, her new teacher is wonderful. He has paired her up with another little girl to be her friend and help her find her way around.” replies the file lady, who now seems to sense my approach and glides towards the photocopier.  

Just as I am about to curse my luck, a file slips from the top of her pile and falls to the floor scattering papers everywhere. I freeze, suddenly acutely aware that a choice needs to be made.

Both women are hastily picking up papers and trying to use their page numbers to assemble them back into order. At the last moment my resolve to be of use crumbles and I creep past to start hastily photocopying the handouts without looking back around. 

Once finished, I try to smile apologetically and make a point of glancing at my watch to broadcast how late I must be running. But, just as I am leaving the room and wondering if I have gotten away with my social faux pas, I hear a loud tut of disapproval. Followed by a grumpy “She could have at least offered to help pick some of these up. I’m going to be late for the start of that presentation now!”

As I finally make my way to the large glass door of the conference room, I see that the light is on inside and my heart starts hammering in my chest. They can’t be in there already, surely? Am I late?

But as I peer through the glass, I see the back of a head and a tool bag on the table. The side of the projector has been removed and there are wires sticking out. Okay, at least I’m not late, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to set up just yet.

I knock on the door and open it to poke my head in.

“Hi, are you going to be much longer? I have a presentation to do here just after lunch, you see.”

The head doesn’t turn round, but I get a slightly tetchy, “Should only be a few more minutes. Can’t rush these things, you know. I’m running a little behind today. Come back in five and I should have it fixed.”

I mutter a thanks and walk off to try and busy myself for what feels like an eternity.

Upon my return the door swings open before I can reach it and I suddenly get the uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.

“Should be all sorted now,” says the man, giving me a perfunctory smile, “now I’m finally off for my lunch.”

I pause, trying to fit the picture of his face into the right part of the puzzle of my day. Oh no, the lift! I internally groan. He doesn’t seem to have recognised me at least. I push the uncomfortable thought down deep and focus on loading up my presentation and laying out the handouts ready. One more hour and this will all be over, I tell myself. 

An hour later and I am half expecting, half wishing the ground will open up and swallow me down to hell. It had started off well, until the last person had come in late and sat down. I recognised her immediately as the lady who had dropped her files at the photocopier and from the look on her face, she recognised me too. Between her stern expression, and the projector cutting out every few minutes due to an overheating issue, I quickly lost my train of thought. One of the directors took pity on me and called IT maintenance, but was told that the guy was still at lunch and wouldn’t be back before my time slot was over. I stumbled through it all as best as I could, but by the end of it I felt like a dead (wo)man walking. 

The slow walk back to my office felt like a dream and I couldn’t focus on anything else for the rest of the afternoon. I just kept replaying the whole presentation over in my head. They said they would let everyone know the final decision at the end of the day. My life has felt like a countdown to this moment and now I’m on the other side of it, I don’t know what to do with myself. I glance up at the clock and reluctantly start to tidy my work away, ready to head home.

In the lift down I keep anxiously checking my phone for the email that will put me out of my misery. I try my best to console myself with the knowledge that even if this promotion passes me by, I still have plenty of time left in my life to achieve it.

I walk towards the bus stop feeling restless. Come on, I think, don't keep me in limbo, just let me know already. As I reach it, I drop down into the seat with a huff and dump my satchel unceremoniously on the floor beside me. Two more minutes until the bus is due. I spend them willing it to arrive faster so that I can forever put this awful day behind me. 

Just as I spot the bus rumbling forwards in the distance the divine sound of a message alert from inside my pocket has me plunging for my phone. I stand up in an excited daze, hands trembling slightly in anticipation. It’s silly to get so worked up, it’s probably a rejection, but what if…?

I spot the email I have been waiting for at the top of my inbox, scanning the first visible line as I open it. “Dear Hope,” it reads. The bus is bearing down and I begin to surge forwards to greet it at the edge of the pavement with a nervous energy. “Unfortunately this time you were unsuccessful..” Too late I feel my heel tangle in the strap. Too late I let my phone slip from my grasp as I overbalance into the road. Too late I hear the driver applying the breaks. And then I realise, it’s just all too late.

I startle myself awake, taking in my surroundings and then my reality comes flooding back to me. Oh, it was only a dream. I stumble out of bed towards the shower, turning it on and waiting while steam fills the room, its inexorable clouds tugging away the last tendrils of sleep that still cling at my mind. The memories of last night start to fade into the ether as I step forwards into the mists. My dream world dissolves away, and I am shunted back into the cruel realism of my existence. I stare through dead eyes at the plains of Purgatory stretching out before me. Uncleansed souls wander aimless among the vapours, in a land of fruiting trees they cannot eat and rivers too toxic to drink from, waiting for sleep to claim them again.

Only a dream, I keep repeating. I can try again tonight. There has to be a way out of here. Something I’m not seeing. I can try again tonight. Maybe next time I will get it all right and finally gain that promotion. My promotion. My ascension.