Your Watch

You looked out the window and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been.  Last week they’d predicted that awful purple gel again, only for it to be clear and sunny, and consequently everyone had been running around all day looking like idiots in their protective gear.  Today, it was supposed to be clear and sunny, and yet here you were, watching the gentle fall of cornflakes.  Freaking cornflakes!  Were they never going to get it right?

Well, no matter.  Today was the big day, and you couldn’t be late for work no matter what.  You turned away from the window - though admittedly, watching the peaceful descent of millions of pieces of cereal from the nineteenth story, where the other buildings caused minimal intrusion on your view, was enjoyable - and trudged into the kitchen in search of coffee.

Markus was sitting at the table already.  “Morning, Jess.”

“G’morning.”  You yawned and flipped open the coffee maker.  “What did I say about dumping your old grounds out when you used this?”

“Whoops, sorry dear.”

You rolled your eyes, and knocked the grounds into the trash.  “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work too?”

“I am.”  He held up his coffee mug and tablet.  “Figured I’d catch up on the news, since I had the time.  I’m surprised you’re up this early though.”

“What do you mean?”  You raised an eyebrow and stared at him.  “You know what happens at work today right?”

“True, true.  But I still assumed you’d use the time to get an extra hour of sleep.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  You just shook your head and turned back to your coffee.  Dumped in fresh grounds, added water, pressed the start button.

He didn’t give up.  “Are you seriously telling me you forgot-”

You held up your hand.  “Coffee first.  Act like a know-it-all later.”

You meanered back into the bedroom and made yourself look presentable while the coffee brewed.  Business suit?  Check.  High heels?  Eh….best go with wedges today, given the weather.  Make-up?  Check.  Then you looked at your watch.  Oh crap.  You were already running late.

You returned to the kitchen and poured the coffee into a thermos, and took a long gulp.  Yeeesss.   That sweet, sweet, substance.  Okay, so it was technically bitter since you didn’t add sugar, but whatever.

“Can I act like a know-it-all now?”  He set down his tablet and looked at you.

“Save it for after work.”

“You’re leaving now?  But it’s-”

“See ya.”  You darted out the door before he could annoy you anymore.  Forty minutes to make a thirty minute commute.  Pushing it a little more than you often did, but still time.  You couldn’t be late for your own party.

“Hey, watch it lady.”  A burly guy with blue hair blocked the hallway.  “Tenant down the hall had a burst pipe, can’t come this way until we get the mess cleaned up.

Oh crud.  “But I have to get to work!”

He shrugged.  “Sorry.  It’s policy.  If you try to run through that flood and fall, you could sue us.”

“I won’t sue you.”  You pointed at your watch.  “I wouldn’t have the time.”

He looked at you funny.  “Nice watch, haven’t seen one of those antique ones in awhile.  Aren’t you forgetting something though?”

“Ugh.  Not you too.  Look, how can I get to the elevator?”

“Ya can’t until I clean this up.  Stairs are at the other end of the hall.”  He jabbed his thumb in the general direction over your shoulder.

“Thanks, I guess.”  You made a beeline for the stairs.  This was going to be fun, not.  There were nineteen stories of noisy metal stairs between you and the ground floor.

By the time you got to the bottom, you were too winded to do anything but collapse on the bottom step and wonder if you’d twisted your ankle on the fifth floor.  Had that taken the extra ten minutes?

You finally stopped gasping like a fish out of water and staggered out the exit and around the building.  Logically, you shouldn’t even have to come down here, seeing as the hovercar could easily be parked on the roof, but the tenants on floors fourteen to eighteen had already claimed the permits for all the rooftop parking by the time you came along.  So you were stuck with the old, ground-level parking.

You located the hovercar in the garage and climbed in.  Where were the keys?

Oh no.  Oh please no.  They were upstairs, still lying on the table by the door because you were in too much of a hurry when you left and forgot to throw them in your purse.

Luckily, the plumbing break couldn’t extend to every floor.  So you took the elevator up to the seventeenth and then used the stairs.  That was an epic facepalm moment.  Why on earth didn’t you think of that the first time around?  Note to self: stop and think before just rushing around madly.

Three minutes and one snide remark from Markus later, you actually made it to the hovercar for real and started it.  You took another giant gulp of coffee to celebrate.  If traffic wasn’t too bad, you could drink the rest before you got there.

Fortunately, it was better than not-bad.  The streets might as well have been empty.  You cheered to yourself and drained the rest of the coffee.  At last, you were getting somewhere.  There was a slim chance you could still get there within five minutes of the party starting.

The only problem was actually getting inside the office.  The company garage was two blocks away, and the cornflakes were not only falling more thickly, but had been joined with a good amount of milk droplets.  It was a full-on breakfast blizzard.  You reached for your umbrella under the seat.  It wasn’t there.

Oh yeah.  You took it out last week when you cleaned the vehicle, and forgot to put it back.  Now you were going to show up looking like you dumped your breakfast over yourself and were too much of a slob to change clothes.

You took the elevator down to the first level and peered out the door.  Maybe you could skirt the building and avoid half of it?  No, the wind was blowing the wrong direction.

At least anyone who was hungry could just step outside today.  That was a plus.

There was nothing to do but run for it.  You took a deep breath and dashed across the courtyard as fast as you could in your current footwear.  Which, let’s admit it, could be faster.  You looked at your watch again.  Success!  You made it with three minutes to spare.  So why was the office door still locked?

You rapped on the door.  “Hey, where is everyone?”

The custodian unlocked it.  “What are you doing here this early?”

“What do you mean?”  You stared at him.  “Everyone keeps saying stuff like that, and it’s getting weird.”

He sighed.  “Jessina, you’re a real piece of work sometimes.”

You put your head in your hands and sighed.  “I give up.  I probably misread the schedule and already missed the whole celebration, didn't I.  Imagine, the woman who designed our most profitable product to date is too ditzy to even show up when the office throws a celebration for her.”  Hey, at least self-awareness was a virtue, right?

The custodian shook his head in exasperation.  “Remember when I commented about your watch once, that it wasn’t synchronized with the city-wide clock like everything else?”

“Yeah, what about it?  Sometimes the antique stuff is cool, just because it’s a novelty.”

He pointed at the wall clock.  “Time change.  Congrats.  You’re an hour and one minute early.”

“You mean all this time I’ve been freaking out about being late, and when I actually make it here, it turns out I was way early the whole time?”

“Blame the government.”

Markus was always making fun of your penchant for old stuff like that watch.  You were never gonna hear the end of this one.

On the bright side, you had all that extra time to write a petition to your senator, reiterating how obsolete time change was and how ridiculous it was that a modern government like ours hadn’t dropped it yet, right?