With a light tap against Mr. McCormik's office door. Gob pushes it forward an inch asking. “Hey, Mr. McCormik? Is this uh. Is this a good time?”
With a friendly smile Mr. McCormik gestures for Gob to take a seat. “Why. Sure thing Gob. Would you mind closing the door behind you?”
“Oh. Not at all.” God says shutting it behind him. Walking a few steps inside. Gob really takes in the scenery of the office from the 40th floor. He stares at the golf clubs in the corner of the room and the coffee cup used for practice. He picks up a framed picture of Mr. McCormik looking bland, pale, and downright sick when compared to his fox of a wife Barbra. Gob stares at Barbra for a beat, really locking in on her massive bazongas. The tender cusp of her.
“Gob? What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Whoa. Oh. Yeah. Yes. I wanted to talk about. Yeah. Yeah I had something I wanted to talk about.” Gob says holding onto the picture.
“Why don't you take a seat then? I don't have all day.”
Gob takes a seat across from Mr. McCormik's desk. Still holding the picture in his hand he says. “Right. Yes, sir. Ha. Don't mean to waste any time.”
“Good. Then don't So. What did you want to talk about?”
“Well. If you don't want me wasting time. I'll just go out and say it. I'd like a promotion. Ha. I think it's about time.”
Curling his fingers together. Mr. McCormik leans forward in his leather office executives chair. Leans on his elbows halfway across the desk asking. “A...promotion huh? You're full of surprises, now aren't you Gob? Tell me. Why do you think you deserve a promotion over everyone else here. Over every single other employee here? What makes you worth it?” Really emphasizing the word “you” the last few times, he stares at Gob like prey. Like a lion would look at a gazelle or a zebra and say, yeah that's tasty, that's what I want. That's how he stared at Gob now lingering in this moment.
With the confidence of a turkey left to it's own devices in the rain. Whether it was because he was uncomfortable, or if he was nervous, maybe he's just dumb. Perhaps it was Barbra's breasts flashing him from between his fingers. But, Gob opens his mouth saying. “It's about knowing who to butter up.”
“Yeah. For instance. I roll up in this place about thirty minutes late everyday. No one notices. Know why? Stacy. The front desk girl.”
Shaking his head in disbelief. Mr. McCormik leans back in his chair and pulls out a notepad with a pen. Waving his hand over his mouth he chuckles saying. “Don't let me stop you there Gob. Please. I'd love to hear more...”
“We all know she's a little bit of a bigger gal...Right? So I give her all those pastries and goodies her doctor says she's not supposed to have. On. On account of the diabetis and what not. Ooh she loves it. She clocks in me in right on time. Every day.”
“Does she clock you out?”
“Oh yeah. A cinnabun or a slushie at lunch seal that deal. Trust me. I take two hours for lunch everyday but it only counts as one. You know what I'm saying..” Gob laughs heavily for a minute but stops nervously while watching Mr. McCormik never break his steeled gaze. Gob pulls at his collar a little bit and continues. “So. I think you should give me a raise. It's hard to afford all these sweets for Stacy.”
Snapping his fingers a little, Gob shifts one leg underneath himself saying. “Yeah. It's hard to keep bribing the woman. She's got the stomach of a cow. Now about my raise. I'd like a new office to go with it. Something spacious like this. Do you think I can get a window view?” Staring at Mr. McCormik's scowl. Gob laughs and continues. “No. You're right. Too much. But I would like reduced hours. Yeah. I think that would go nicely with an assistant. Are you uh writing this down? You should be writing this down guy.”
“No. Gob. I shouldn't. But. Since I have you here. I'd love for you to tell me a little more about your average day. Really. Don't hold back. Any details. I would love to know exactly what you do after you bribe our poor diabetic desk attendant with sweets. So after you stride in late and almost kill Stacy. What's next for Gob. Where does he go?”
“Easy. The briefcase goes down at the desk, and then it's bathroom time. I never go before home. I always make sure it's the first thing I do. It could be twenty minutes. I could get lost with crosswords on the john. Next thing you know an hours past. Point is. A good two to four hours of my day is spent inside the bathroom. Whether or not I'm going doesn't matter. Cause, I tell people I've got constant diarrhea. No one wants to talk to a man ready to blow a hole in his dockers at the drop of a hat. Perfect cover every time.”
“You spend two to four hours in the bathroom. You have an eight hour shift.”
“That. That mind you. I spend two hours at lunch on.”
“That leaves you with two hours to work. This is the most ridiculous thing. I think I've heard enough. Gob your...”
“So you don't want to hear about Nerdy Bob?”
“I'm going to regret asking, but sure. Tell me about Bob. Gob.”
“He's a real piece of work. Let me tell you. First. This guy's always on time. Stays late. He carpools to work with a few other people. I mean let me tell you. If there ever was the example of a prime employee. Bob is not it. This guy get's all his work done on time. So much so in fact. He asks to help me with mine.”
“So all of your paper work?”
“Oh yeah. That's right. Nerdy Bob. This guy will do anything I ask as long as I include him in things. Like a conversation at the water cooler. Ha. What a sucker. At least Stacy makes me pay. Speaking of. Where did we land on that raise?”
“Just help me understand something real fast. You.”
“Yeah.” Gob nods excitedly.
“You have Bob do everything for you? And...and It's just worked out?”
Shaking his head enthusiastically Gob says. “So far. Yes. That is how it has gone.”
“How did this start?”
“Oh. He took a pile of old reports from my desk that hadn't been completed in years and just did 'em. He signed 'em as himself. But poor Bob's sloppy hand writing became my easy streak to the big league. You know. I'm thinking I'd like a better parking spot then the one I have now too.”
“I have a better idea.” Holding a firm finger down on the intercom for his assistant. Mr. McCormik continues. “Hey, Marge. Would you send Bob in please.”
A static filled voice raspy voice echos back. “He's on his way. Anything else?”
“Yes. Fire. Stacy.”
“Stacy? But, She's so sweet.”
“Just do it. Okay? Thank you Marge. Thank you. Yes. Thank you.” Arguing with Marge to get off of the intercom for a beat Mr. McCormik fixes his suit and slicks his hair back. A knock comes to the door and Mr. McCormik shouts. “Come in.”
Now. Here comes Nerdy Bob. Pale, tall and lanky. Bob walked in dressed in khakis, converse, a white button up shirt, a pocket protector filled with pens, a calculator sticking out of his pants, and glasses so thick you can't even see the outline of his eyes anymore; you just know he has pupils. With thick fire red hair growing like a chia pet in patches. At least his mustache was something to be jealous of. So meaty and walrus like, it lined his lip like captain hook but red.
Pushing his glasses up his nose a small way. Bob smiles at Gob and gives a little wave saying. “Hi. Ahem. You called for me sir. Mr. McCormik, Sir.”
“Bob. Gob here has weaving quite the tale as to why he deserves a promotion. I wanted to bring you in on the event. Seeing as the two of you have worked so close together in the past. I thought we might come to a. Similar arrangement.”
Bob nods happily saying. “Well sure. I don't see why not.”
Gob swallows hard looking between Bob and Mr. McCormik. Fiddling with the glass frame in his hands he says. “You know maybe we don't have to give me that promotion after all.”
Mr. McCormik raises a hand to Gob smiling. “No. You made your case. And let me tell you Gob. I. Am blown away.”
“You are?” Gob says. Relief washing over him.
Standing up Mr. McCormik laughs saying. “Oh. Yes. I'm so impressed. You're going to start back at minimum wage. Oh wait. There's more. How about this Gob? How about Bob.” Pointing a meaty finger at Bob he continues and begins raising his voice. “How about Bob get's your parking spot? How about I give Bob a promotion and give him your lost wages? How about Bob becomes your new team lead? How about that Gob?”
Shocked. Gob remains silent for a beat then says. “I guess. That's acceptable. Bob?”
Confused Bob gives a shaky thumbs up and shoulder shrug. “Yes sir. Mr. McCormik sir. If you think that's best, sir.”
“Good. Now get the fuck outta my office Gob. Bob, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow at 7. I'll have a new employment contract for you to sign.”
The two men leave. Gob hanging his head in defeat holds the door for Bob. Before he can close to the door. Mr. McCormik clears his throat. "Gob? Aren't you forgetting something."
Turning around Gob points at himself with the hand holding the picture asking. "Who? Me?"
"I'd like the picture of my beautiful wife and me back please."
Nervous Gob walks back inside with a chuckle. Setting the picture back down in place he rushes back out and closes the door. Walking away from Mr. McCormik's office. Gob gives Bob a massive high five saying. “Can you believe he bought it? I told you I could get you team lead. Just like you always wanted.”
Bob chuckles, pushing Gob lightheartedly. “That was like stealing candy from a baby. Give it a few months. I'll be giving you raises in no time.”
They wiggle each others fingers mumbling some strange noises, slap five, shake hands, snap their fingers and give a quick fist bump. The two spin around on opposite feet and stop backs facing each other. They bounce their butts together humming a little cheer then laugh.
Bob shoots Gob a serious look saying. “We did get Stacy fired though.”
“Yeah. Was any of that even true?” Bob replies and shifts uncomfortably for a moment.
Gob shifts in place for a beat and pulls at his collar. “No...No. No it. It uh. It wasn't. Well. My bad. Did not think that through. Huh.”
“Still, it felt good to finally be praised.”
Clapping his hands together, Gob laughs. “Well. All's well that ends well right?”
Bob stares at Gob then chuckles saying. “Yeah. I guess you're right.”